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CAMOE^^S. 



F7J?as7iedJi£^ 2^.2603. 'h)'Ja?7tes- C^^rp enter. Old Bcni SprOr. 



POEMS, 

FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF 

MJIH BE CAMOENSi 

Wmi REMARKS ON HIS 

LIFE AND WRITINGS. 
NOTES, 4c. ^c. 



LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFORD. 



■ Accipies meros amores-^ 

CATULL. 



LONDON : 

PRINTED FOR J. CARPENTER, OLD BOND-STREET, 

BY C. WHITTINGHAM, DEAN STREET. 



1803. 



Ok?,-' 



387270 
'29 




TO 

DENHAM JEPHSON, ESQ. M. P. 

Sfc, Sfc, Sfc, 

fS TESTIMONY OF GRATEFUL ATTACHMENT, 

THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE INSCRIBED, 

BY 
HIS AFFECTIONATE KINSMAN, 



THE TRANSLATOR, 



^ KEMAJRKS 

ON THE 

LIFE AND WRITINGS 

OF 

CAMOENS. 



It has been frequently observed, that the 
memoirs of Uterary men are, in general, 
so devoid of extraordinary incident, that 
the relation of them is calculated more to 
instruct than to amuse. The Life of Ca- 
MOENs forms an exception to this remark. 
Its vicissitudes were so many and so va- 
rious, as almost to encourage a belief, 
that in describing them, the deficiencies 
of fact were sometimes supplied by the 
pencil of romance. 

B 



The late ingenious Translator of the 
Lusiad has pourtrayed the character, and 
narrated the misfortunes of our poet, in a 
manner more honourable to his feelings 
as a man, than to his accuracy in point of 
biographical detail. It is with diffidence 
that the present writer essays to correct 
his errors; but as the real circumstances of 
the life of Camoens are mostly to be 
found in his own minor compositions, 
with ivhich Mr. Mickle was unacquaint- 
ed, he trusts that certain information wdll 
atone for his presumption. 

The family of Camoens was illustrious, 
and originally Spanish. They were long 
settled at Cadmon^^ a castle in Galicia, 
from which they probably derived their 
patronymic appellation. How^ever, there 
are some who maintain that their name al- 
luded to a certain wonderful bird% whose 

■^'taria y Sousa, V. del. P. § iii. 
2 The Camad, Our poet himself gives a somewhat 



mischievous sagacity discovered and pu- 
nished the smallest deviation from conju- 
gal fidelity. A lady of the house of Cad- 
mon, whose conduct had been rather in- 
discreet, demanded to be tried by this ex- 
traordinary judge. Her innocence was 
proved, and in gratitude to the being who 
had restored him to matrimonial felicity, 
the contented husband adopted his name. 

In the fourteenth century, a dispute 
having arisen between the families of Cad- 
different account of the matter, f^uiniil. a huma dama^ 
V. 190.) Formerly, every well regulated family in Spain 
retained one of these terrible attendants. The infidelity 
of its mistress was the only circumstance which could 
deprive it of life. Should her guilt have been extended 
to any degree beyond a wish, the faithful bird immedi- 
ately betrayed it, by expiring at the feet of its injured 
lord. It soon was difficult to find a Camad that had lived 
in the same family during three generations; and at 
length the species became entirely extinct! 

This odious distmst of female honour is ever charac- 
teristic of a barbarous age. The Camad of Spain, and 
the Mumho of Africa, are expedients indicative of equal 
refinement. 



mon and De Castera^, a knight of the for- 
mer, had the misfortune to kill a cavalier 
belonging to the latter. A long train of 
persecution ensued, to escape from which, 
Ruy de Camoens embraced the cause of 
King Ferdinand^, and removed with his 
family into Portugal, under the protection 
of that monarch, about the year 1370. 
His son, Vasco de Camoens, was highly 
distinguished by royal favour '^, but had 
rhe superior honour of being the ancestor 
of our immortal poet, who descended 
from him in the fourth generation. 



iD^ 



Luis de Camoens was born at Lisbon, 
about the year 1524 \ His misfortunes 

^ Salgado de Araujo. — Casas de Galicia, p. 304. 

2 Garcez Ferreyra. — Vid. do Poet. Edit. Gendron. 
§ iij. 

^ King Ferdinand invested him with the lordships of 
Portalegre, Aiam-quer, &c. Faria. 

^ The place of his nativity is ascertained, by his fre- 
quent application of the epithet *' paternal'^ to the Ta- 
gus; the time of it is involved in some obscurity, but 
an entry in the register of the Portuguese India House 



5 

began with his birth, for he never saw the 
smile of a father ; Simon Vaz de Camoens 
having perished by shipwreck in the very 
year which gave being to his son. Such, 
at least, is the received opinion, although 
there be many reasons for calling it into 
question \ Notwithstanding the diminu- 
tion of wealth, which the family sustained 
in consequence of this event, the youthful 
Camoens was sent to the university of 
Coimbra^j and maintained there by the 
provident care of his surviving parent. 

The ideas associated with the place of 
our education are generally lasting. It is 
the peculiarity of poetical minds to recal 
them with delio^ht, and Camoens fre- 
quently mentions Coimbra, where he was 

appears to determine it. He is there stated 'to have been 
twenty -five years old in 1550. Faria. Vid. do Poet. 

^ The same register mentions him as one of his son's 
sureties, and consequently, living in 1550. 

^ Far: a y Sousi-—S-^'^erim—F,'>rrcijra, 



fostered on the '^ lap of science/' with all 
the tender gratitude of an affectionate 
son. Duruig the period which he passed 
at the university, he was an utter stranger 
to that passion, with which he afterwards 
became so intimately acquainted. It is 
even recorded, that while the manly graces 
of his person inspired many of the better 
sex with admiration, he treated his fair 
captives with disdain, or at most, as the 
mere objects of temporary transport \ 

But the scene was soon to be changed , 
and on his arrival at Lisbon, he was des- 
tined to feel the full vengeance of that 
god whose power he had contemned. 
Love is very nearly allied to devotion, and 
it was in the exercise of the latter that 
Camoens was introduced to the know- 
ledge of the former. In the Church of 

I Camoens, Cane. II. stB,uz, vu Cane. VII. stanz. iu 
Son. VII. Sousa in loc. 



7 

^^ Christ's Wounds/' at Lisbon, on the 
llth of April, 1542', he first beheld Dona 
Caterina de Ataide, the object of his purest 
and earliest attachment. The churches of 
Spain and Portugal, says Scarron, are the 
very cradles of intrigue^, and it was not 
long before Camoens enjoyed an oppor- 
tunity of declaring his affection, with all 
the romantic ardour of eighteen, and of a 
poet. 

But, in those days, love was a state of 
no trifling probation, and ladies then un- 
conscionably expected a period of almost 
chivalrous servitude, which, happily for 
gentlemen, is no longer required. The 
punctilious severity of his mistress formed 
the subject of our poet^s most tender com- 
plaints ; for, though her heart had secretly 

^ For the reasons which have induced the translator 
to assign this date, see the note on Sonnet I. 
" Roman Comique, P. I. ch. ix. 



decided in his favour, still Portuguese de- 
licacy suppressed all avowal of her pas- 
sion. After many months of adoration, 
when he humbly besought a ringlet of her 
hair, she was so far softened by his en- 
treaties, as to make a compromise with 
prudery, and bestow one of the silken fil- 
lets which encircled her head\ These 
anecdotes must not be despised, for they 
mark the temper of the times. 

The peculiar situation of Dona Caterina 
(that of one of the queen's ladies) imposed 
an uniform restraint on her lover, which 
soon became intolerable. Like another 
Ovid, he violated the sanctity of the roy^l 
precincts, and was in consequence banish- 
ed from the courts With the precise na- 
ture of his offence we are unacquainted, 
but it too probably arose from a breach of 

1 Camoens, Son. XLIL and Scusa in loc. 

2 Camoens, Eleg. III. and Sousa in lo€. 



9 

discretion, the first and noblest amongst 
the laws of gallantry^ Whatsoever it 
might have been, it furnished a happv 
pretext to the lady's relations, for termi- 
nating an intercourse which worldly con- 
siderations rendered, on her part, of the 
highest imprudence. But Love prepared 
consolation for his votary, where least he 
expected it. On the morning of his de- 
parture, his mistress relented from her 
wonted severity, and confessed the secret 
of her long-concealed affection'. The 
sighs of grief were soon lost in those of 
mutual delight, and the hour of parting- 
was, perhaps, the sweetest of our poet's 
existence. Thus comforted, he removed to 
Santarem (the scene of his banishment) but 
speedily returned to Lisbon, again tasted 
of transport, was a second time detect- 
ed, and a second time driven into exiled 

^ Faria y Sousa. Comment, in Eclog. pag. 240. 
* Sonnet XXIV. and Comment, in loc 
^ Faria y Sousa, V. del. P. § xiv. 



10 

To such a spirit as Camoens., the inacti- 
vity of this situation must have proved in- 
supportable ; the voice of Love whispered 
a secret reproach, and inspired him with 
the glorious resolution of conquering the 
obstacles which fortune had placed be- 
tween him and felicity. He accordingly 
sought and obtained permission to accom- 
pany King John III. ^ in an expedition 
then concerted against the Moors in Afri- 
ca. Here, whilst bravely fighting under 
the commands of a near relation^, he was 
deprived of his right eye, by some splin- 
ters from the deck of the vessel in which 
he was stationed. Many of his most pa- 
thetic compositions were written during 
this campaign, and the toils of a martial 



' Of this monarch Camoens gives a fine character in 
one comprehensive line. 

" Foy reyyfez tudo quanta a rey se deve.^^ 

Son. LIX. 
" He was a king — in every act a king." 
* Sousa says, under those of his father. Vida. § xiv. 



11 

life were sweetened by the recollection of 
her for whom they were endured. 

His heroic conduct in many engage- 
ments, at length purchased his recal t6 
court. He hastened home, fraught with 
the most tender anticipations, and found 
— what must have been his feehngs ? that 
his mistress was no more ! ^ — 

There can scarcely be conceived a more 
interesting theme for the visions of ro- 
mance, than the death of this young and 
amiable being. The circumstances of her 
fate are peculiarly favourable to the exer- 
cise of conjecture. She loved, she was be- 
loved, yet unfortunate in her attachment, 
she was torn from the world at the early 
age of twenty^; and we cannot but adorn 
her grave with some of the wildest flowers 
w^hich fancy produces. But her lot was 
enviable, compared to that of her lover. 

^ Comments in Sonn, XIX. et alibi. ^ Ibid. 



12 

The measure of his sorrows was yet im- 
perfect. He had still to encounter the 
cruel neglect of that nation, whose glory 
his valour had contributed to maintain. 
The claims of mere merit are too often 
disregarded, but those Avhich are founded 
on the gratitude of courts are hopeless in- 
deed! Long years were passed by Ca- 
MOENS in unsuccessful application for the 
reward which his services demanded^, and 
in suing: for his rig^hts at the feet of men 
whom he could not but despise. This was 
a degradation which his high spirit knew 
not how to endure, and he accordingly 
bade adieu to Portugal, to seek, under the 
burning suns of India, that independence 
which his ow^n country denied". 



^ Joseph de Aquino Vid. do Poet, p. 132. edit. 1782. 
2 «^ ^^ derradeiras palavras que na nao disse jorao as de 
Sc'ipiao Africano, Ingrata patria, non possidebis 
OSS A ME A 1 *' The last words which I uttered on board 
of the vessel were those of Scipio — * Ungrateful couyi- 
try ! thou shall not even possess my bones\^^ Such are the 
expressions of Camoens, ia a letter written from India", 



13 

There are some who attribute this event 
to a very difl^erent cause, and assert that 
Camoens quitted Lisbon in consequence 
of a discovered intrigue with the beautiful 
wife of a Portuguese gentleman \ Per- 
haps this story may not be wholly un- 
founded. It is improbable that he remain- 
ed long constant to the memory of a de- 
parted mistress, when living beauty was 
ready to supply her place. His was not a 
heart that could safely defy temptation, 
although the barbarous ingenuity of some 
commentators^ would mxake us believe, 
that all his amours were purely platonic, 
and that he was ignorant of the passion in 
every other respect. Happily for himself, 
the case was different, and his works re- 

to a friend at Lisbon. The whole of this composition is 
interesting and pathetic in the extreme. 

1 Mickle. — Life of Camoens. Unfortunate!}^, Mr. M, 
does not cite any autliority for this supposition. 

- Faria, in Son. X. et al. 



14 

cord that he more than once indulo^ed in 
the Uttle wanderings of amatory frohc \ 

On his arriv^al in India, we find that Ca- 
MOENS contributed, in no small measm^e, 
to the success of an expedition against 
the Pimenta Isles, carried on by the king 
of Cochin and his allies the Portuguese. 
His own recital of this affair exhibits all 
the charming modesty of merit ^. In the 
following year (1555) Manuel de Vasccn- 
celos conducted an armament to the Red 
Sea^. Our poet accompanied him, and 
with the intrepid curiosity of genius, ex- 
plored the wild regions of Africa by which 
Mount Felix is surrounded. Here his 
mind was stored with sketches of scenery, 
which afterwards formed some of the most 

1 Those \yho are desirous of further information on 
this subject, may obtain a very curious anecdote by 
consulting Sousa. Vid. del P. § xxxii. 

2 Eleg. J. 

3 Life, by Ferreyra, § xir. 



15 

finished pictures in his Lusiad^ and in other 
compositions^ to the former of which, on 
returning to Goa, he devoted his whole 
attention. 

India, at that time, presented a scene 
of pohtical depravity, which no subse- 
quent period has exceeded. Practices 
were tolerated, which eventually wrought 
the downfal of the government by whom 
they were authorized ; hordes of hungry 
adventurers rioted on the spoils of the 
friendless natives, and the demons of ra- 
pacity and avarice were every where ex- 
alted into gods. The spirit of Camoens 
rose in revolt against the enormities by 
which he was surrounded. An opportu- 
nity of declaring his disgust, at length oc- 
curred. The arrival of a new governor 
at Goa, was celebrated by the exhibi- 
tion of a kind of tournament, in which 

I In particular, the IX. Canjam, 



16 

reeds were employed in place of lances, 
thence called '^ The Spoilt of the Canes. '''^ 
Camoens published a satirical account of 
this affair, in which he described the chief 
men of Goa, as adorned with allegorical 
devices, &c. allusive to the character and 
conduct of each\ In consequence of 
this, he was banished to China by order of 
Barreto, the Governor, against whom the 
bard's attack had been principally di- 
rected. 

This proceeding of Camoens has not 
escaped reprehension. He has been ac- 
cused of ingratitude; but how could he 
be ungrateful, who never had a friend? 
His rashness in provoking the anger of 
the great, has likewise been censured by 
the cold-blooded moderation of worldly 
men; men to whom truth itself seems a 

^ Me likewise wrote some verses entitled, ** Disparates 
na India,^^ which severely animadverted on the mal-ad- 
ministration of the new governor. 



17 

libel, if it offend the dignity of a gran- 
dee \ Yet, though it be a mournful fact 
that prudence and genius but rarely ac- 
cord, is the sacrifice of the former to be 
regretted, when it makes way for the pu- 
nishment of vice, by the bold utterance of 
honest indignation? On this principle, the 
conduct of our author appears almost free 
from blame, and, perhaps, he was only 
culpable in suffering resentment to give 
too high a colouring to the sketches of 
truth. 

The adventures of Camoens in China, 
the temporary prosperity which he there 
experienced, and the numerous sorrows 
and persecutions which he afterwards en- 
countered, have been fully and elegantly 
detailed by the late ingenious translator 
of the Lusiad. To his narration the pre- 



1 Amongst others, Mens. Du Perron de Castera, the 
French translator of the Lusiad. 



18 

sent writer begs to refer, lest he should 
extend these remarks beyond then' proper 
bounds. 

After an absence of sixteen years Ca- 
MOENs was compelled to retm'n to Portu- 
gal, poor and friendless as when he de- 
parted. His immortal Lusiad was now 
ready for pubhcation, which, however, 
was delayed, in consequence of the vio- 
lence with which the plague then raged 
throughout Lisbon. At length, in the 
summer of 1572, it was printed \ and re- 
ceived with all the honour due to such a 
sflorious achievement of crenius. It is even 
asserted that King Sebastian, to whom it 
was inscribed, rewarded the author with 
a pension of 375 rcis'^. But, admitting 



^ Faria y Sous a, Vid. § xxvli. 

2 When Sebastian undertook the Moorish expedition, 
assured of victory, he brought a poet with liiin to Africa, 
to witness his exploits, and to celebrate them in song. 
The person selected for this office was Diego Bernardes, 



19 

the truth of this very doubtful story, our 
poet could not have remained in long pos- 
session of the royal bounty. Sebastian was 
speedily hurled from a tottering throne % 
and liberality was a stranger to the soul 
of his successor. To his eyes the cowl 
of monkhood seemed a more graceful or- 
nament than the noblest laurels of the 
muse^. Such was the spirit which patro- 
nized de Sa^, and suffered the author of 
the Lusiad to starve ! 



a man of poor and despicable abilities. Had Camoens 
been really & protege of the monarch, it is much more 
probable that he would have attended him, whose 
*' Sword and pen were rivals in renown." 

^ Faria, ut supra. 

^ In the preface to the edition of Camoens, printed in 
1782, vol. i. p. 59, there is an attempt to vindicate the 
character of Cardinal Henry from the strictures of Mr. 
Mickle. But the voice of history cannot be silenced, 
and history is loud in his condemnation. 

Sousa. Vid. § xxvii. Francisco de Sa was an author 
much in favour with Cardinal Henry. His muse was of 
a theological turn. He wrote orthodox sonnets to St. 
John, and pious little epigrams on Adam and Eve, &c. 



20 

The latter years of Camoens present a 
mournful picture not merely of individual 
calamity, but of national ingratitude. He 
whose best years had been devoted to the 
service of his country, he, who had taught 
her literary fame to rival the proudest ef- 
forts of Italy itself, and who seemed born 
to revive the remembrance of ancient gen- 
tility and Lusian heroism, was compelled 
in age, to wander through the streets, 
a wretched dependant on casual contri- 
bution. One friend alone remained to 
smooth his downward path, and guide his 
steps to the grave, with gentleness and 
consolation. It was Antonio, his slave, a 
native of Java, who had accompanied Ca- 
moens to Europe, after having rescued 
him from the waves, when shipwrecked at 
the mouth of the Mecon. This faithful 
attendant was wont to seek alms through- 
out Lisbon, and at night shared the pro» 
duce of the day with his poor and broken- 



21 

hearted master\ Blessed, for ever bless^ 
ed, be the memory of this amiable In- 
dian ! But his friendship was employed in 
vain: Camoens sank beneath the pres- 
sure of penury and disease, and died in 
an alms-house^ early in the year 1579. 
He was buried in the church of Saint 
Anne of the Franciscans. Over his grave, 
Gongalo Coutinho placed the following in- 
scription^, which, for comprehensive sim- 
plicity, the translator ventures to prefer 
to almost every production of a similar 
kind : 

^ Faria y Sousa. § xxix. 

2 The place of his death is differently mentioned by 
Manoel de Faria. According to that commentator, he 
died in his own miserable hovel, close to the church in 
which he was interred. 

3 Sousa. Vid. §. Some years afterwards, Don Gon- 
^alves Camera caused a long and pompous epitaph to 
be engraved on the same tomb. But this posthumous 
panegyric only added deeper disgrace to the facts re- 
corded in the former inscription. 



22 

HERE LIES LUIS DE CAMOENS : 

HE EXCELLED ALL THE POETS OF HIS TIME. 

HE LIVED POOR AND MISERABLE; 

AND HE DIED SO. 

MDLXXIX. 

It has been justly observed \ that the 
fate of CamoenSj considered in a pohtical 
view, bears an intimate connection with 
that of his country. The same degrada- 
tion of national sentiment, which suffered 
such a man to become a beggar and an 
outcast, not long afterwards plunged Por- 
tugal into the lowest disgrace, and reduc- 
ed her to the abject state of a conquered 
province. So true it is, that the decline 
of public spirit in matters of taste is a cer- 
tain indication of political decay ^. 

1 Mkkle. Life of Camoens. 

2 Of this opinion was Camoens himself. In a letter to 
Don Francisco de Almeyda, written a few days before 
his death, he has these prophetic expressions ; " Veran 
todos que fuy tan aficionado a mi patria, que no solo bohi 
para morir en ella, ^las para morir con ella!'^ '* The 



23 

The character ofCAMOENs may be in- 
ferred from his writings. Au open and 
undisguised contempt of every thing base 
and sordid, whatever w^ere the rank or 
power of its possessor, formed one of its 
principal features. We have already seen 
how much the worldly interest of our poet 
was injured by this honourable audacity 
of soul. Those who condemn it must be 
ignorant that the exercise of this feeling 
produces a more enviable delight than 
any which fortune can ever bestow. The 
poor man is not always poor! 

But gallantry was the leading trait in 
the disposition of Camoens. His amours 
w^ere various and successful. Woman was 
to him as a ministering angel, and for the 
little joy which he tasted in life, he was 
indebted to her. The magic of female 

world shall witness how dearly I have loved my coun- 
try. I have returned, not merely to die in her bosom > 
but to die with her!" Sousa. Vid. § xxv. 



24 

charms forms his favourite theme, and 
while he paints the allurements of the sex 
with the glowing pencil of an enthusiast, 
he seems transported into that heaven 
which he describes. Nor did this passion 
ever desert him ; even in his last days, he 
feelingly regretted the raptures of youth, 
and lingered with delight on the remem- 
brances of love. A cavalier named Ruy de 
Camera^, having called upon our author 
to finish a poetical version of the seven 
penitential psalms, raising his head from 
his miserable pallet, and pointing to his 
faithful slave, he exclaimed, '' Alas, when 
I was a poet, I was young, and happy, 
and blest with the love of ladies^ but now, 
I am a forlorn deserted wretch: — See — 
there stands my poor Antonio, vainly 
supplicatingybz^r-p6'?26'^ to purchase a little 
coals — I have them not to give him!" 
The cavalier, as Sousa quaintly relates, 
closed his heart and his purse, and quit- 

1 ^ousa Vid. § xxiXc 



ted the room. Such Avere the gran,dees of 
Portuo^al! 



^^v. 



The crenius of Camoens was almost 
universal. Like the great father of Eng- 
lish poetry, there is scarcely any species 
of writing, from the epigram to the epic, 
which he has not attempted, and, like 
him, he has succeeded in all. It is not 
the province of the translator to offer any 
remarks on the Lusiad. That task has 
already been ably performed. Of his mi- 
nor productions, the general characteris- 
tic is ease ; not the studied carelessness of 
modern refinement, but the graceful and 
charming simplicity of a Grecian muse 
When he wrote, the Italian model was in 
fashion, and as Camoens was intimately 
acquainted with that language, he too fre- 
quently sacrificed his better judgment to 
the vitiated opinion of the public. Hence 
the extravagant hyperboles and laborious 
allusions, which he has sometimes^ though 



26 

rarely, employed. But his own taste was 
formed on purer principles. He had stu- 
died and admired the poems of Provence^ 
He had wandered through those vast ca- 
tacombs of buried genius, and treasure 
rewarded his search. Even the humble 
knowledge of Proven9al literature, which 
the present writer possesses, has enabled 
him to discover many passages which the 
Portuguese poet has rendered his own. 
But we must be careful not to defraud 
Camoens of the merit of originality. To 
that character he has, perhaps, a juster 
claim than any of the moderns, Dante 
alone excepted. The same remark which 
Landino applies to that poet, may be re- 
ferred to him^. He was the first who 



i " The poetry of the Troubadours passed into Arra- 
gon and Catalonia at the time when the kings of the 
former territory, (counts of Barcelona) became by 
marriage counts of Provence." 

Mons. Le Grand, Fabliaux, vol. ii. p. 25. 

2 *« Trovo Omero la lingua Greca molto gia abbon- 
ilante, ed elimata da Orfeo, da Museo, &c. &c. trovo 



27 

wrote with elegance in his native tongue. 
The language of Rome, and even of 
Greece, had been refined by antecedent 
authors, before the appearance of Virgil 
or of Homer, but Camoens was at once 
the polisher, and in some degree the cre- 
ator of his own. How deplorable must 
have been its state, when it naturahzed two 
thousand new words, on the bare authori- 
ty of a single manM Monsieur Menage 
was wont to pique himself on having in- 
troduced into French the term '^ venuste;^"^ 
yet all his influence could never make it 
current, nor indeed did it long survive its 
illustrious fabricator ^ 

Our author, like many others, has suf- 
fered much from the cruel kindness of 

Virgilio la Latina esornata e da Ennio, e da Lucrezio, 
&c. &c. ma inanzi a Dante in lingua Toscana nessuno 
avea trovato alcuna leggiadria, &c." Land'mo. Comm. 
in Dant. ed. mccccxci. fol. xiii. 

^ Longueruana, ou Pensees de PAbbe Dufour/p. 229, 

^Ibidem, 



28 

editors and commentators. After the first 
publication of his '' Rimas^^ there appear- 
ed a number of spurious compositions, 
which, for some time, were attributed to 
him. Amongst these was a poem to which 
notice is due, not on account of its own 
merit, but from regard to the reputation 
ofCAMOENs. It is called ^^ The Creation 
and Composition of Man,'' and is a strange 
medley of anatomy, metaphysics, and 
school divinity. In subject, and occasion- 
ally in execution, it strikingly resembles 
the Purple Island of Phineas Fletcher ; and, 
like it, is a curious example of tortured 
ingenuity. One instance shall suffice. 
Man is typified under the symbol of a 
tower. The mouth is the gateway, and 
the teeth are described as two and thirty 
millers, clothed in white, and placed as 
guards on either side of the porch. His 
metaphor is more satirically just, when he 
represents the tongue as a female, old and 
experienced, whose office was to regulate 



29 

and assist the efforts of the thirty-two grin- 
ders aforesaid, all young men of indispen- 
sible utility and extraordinary powers ! 

*' Duros e rijos, trinta e dous moleiros 
" De grande forqa, e util exerciqo /'* 

He must possess no little credulity, who 
would attribute such a work to the author 
of the Lusiad\ 

There is also another poem which bears 
his name, but is certainly the production 
of a different hand. The martyrdom of St. 
Ursula and the eleven thousand virgins 
forms its subject. But it is not probable 
that the persevering chastity of these un- 
happy ladies could ever have found favour 
in the sight of our amorous bard. It is still 



1 A Treatise on Surgery was printed in 1551, by Ber- 
nardino de Montana. The Second Part of it is called 
** El Sueno,^^ or, The Dream, and seems to have been 
the original from which this singular poem was derived. 



30 

less likely that he would have celebrated 
it in song. 

Camoens is the reputed author of 
three comedies, published at different pe- 
riods after his death. The subject of one 
of them is the amour of Antiochus with 
his step-mother Stratonice. There are 
iSome fine passages to be found in this 
production; but in general, the writer 
seems to have anticipated the taste of mo- 
dern times, and to have considered co- 
medy and farce as the same. Another is 
founded on the prolonged adventure of Ju- 
piter and Alcmena. The third, and in- 
disputably the best, relates the romantic 
loves of a Prince of Denmark and a Spa- 
nish lady, who, after a due course of tribu- 
lation, prove to be first-cousins, and are 
happily united. Bat notwithstanding the 
improbabiUty of the design, the execution 
is good; and, on the whole, this composi- 



31 
tion bears internal evidence of the hand 
of Camoens. 

Something remains to be said of the 
present translation. It is offered to the 
world with diffidence, as the favom'ite 
amusement of a young mind, which, when 
obliged to relax from severer studies, pre- 
ferred literary trifling to total inactivity. 
The translator begs to observe, that for 
the most part, he has closely copied his 
author, but that where circumstances de- 
manded, he has not hesitated to be 

*' True to his sense'^but truer to hisfame,'^ 

Literal versions are justly deemed ab- 
surd; yet, on the other hand, too great 
an extension of the Horatian precept^ 
^' Nee vei'bum verbo^'^ has been the bane 
of many. It has proved to the world of 
translation, what the phrase '^ liberality 
of sentiment" has been to that of morals 



32 

- — the worst of errors have originated from 

both. 

Of the notes ^ little can be said. He 
v:\\o comments on amatorj' verses under- 
takes but a limited office. His utmost ef- 
fort is the citation of parallel passages, 
imless he substitute admiration for criti- 
cism; a mistake into which, of all others, 
a translator is most likely to fall. 

The present writer has yet to offer his 
gfrateful acknowledsfments to those whose 
advice and experience have aided his la- 
bours. It is with pride and "- ^ ,t 
he enrols amons: them the nainc-^ ^. ^ c ;l/ 
and of Haylty, To the kindness of the 
latter he is indebted for the assistance of 
many valuable books, which could not 
elsewhere be procured; and to the al- 
most fatherly friendship of the learned Bi- 
shop of Dromore, his obhgations have 
Ions: been unbounded. It is no small bo- 



33 

nour to so young a writer, that he should 
be countenanced by men, who, like the 
good ' spirits in TrissinOj sit under the 
shade of their own laurels, and smile en- 
couragement on those who are labouring 
up the mountain over which they preside. 



POEMS, 

Sfc. 
FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF 

CAMOENS, 



FOEMS, 



CANZON. 



** Lembrevos m'lnha tristexa 



Canst thou forget the silent tears 

Which I have shed for thee ? 
And all the pangs, and doubts, and fears^ 
Which scatter- d o*er my bloom of year?i 
The blights of misery ? 



I never close my languid eye 

Unless to dream of thee; 
My every breath is but the sigh. 
My every sound the broken cry 

Of lasting misery. 

G when in boyhood^s happier scene 

I ^edgM my love to thee. 
How very little did I ween 
My recompence should now have been^ 

So much of misery ! 



39 



MADRIGAL. 



" Se de do vestida andais 

*^ For quern ja vida no iem,'*^ &c. 



Why art thou clothed in sad array 
For him, whose days are done. 

Yet dost no sign of grief display 

For those, thy lightning glances slay ? 
Though he thou mournest be but one; 

—More than a thousand, they. — 

Thou bendest on the lover's prayer 

The tearless eye of scorn; 
And while thou dost, with barbarous care, 
Th' illusive guise of feeling wear, 

Tho' Pity's garb thy breast adorn, 
— She never enters there ! 



m 



MADRIGAL. rV. N.J 



*' Mi cora^on me han roubado 
*' T Amor viendo mis enojosj'^ &c. 



The heart that warmM my guileless breast 
Some wanton hand had thence convey'd. 

But Love, who saw his bard distressM, 
In pity thus the thief betrayM — 

'^ ^Tis she w^ho owns the fairest mien 

'^ And sweetest eyes that e^er were seen!^^ 

And sure if Love be in the right, 
(And was Love ever in the wrong?) 

To thee, my first and sole delight. 

That simple heart must now belong — 

— Because thou hast the fairest mien 

And sweetest eyes that e'er were seen ! 



m 



1 



41 



MADRIGAL. 

fF.N.J 



** Nao me buscays, Amor ligeyro 
" Nad me buscays, &c.'* 



i R^YTHEE, Cupid, hence — desist — 
Why should I increase the list 
Of boys, whose sole delights consist 
In kissing, and in being kiss'd? 

Starlight eyes, and heaving snows. 
Lips, young rivals of the rose. 
Rounded limbs, and folding arms^ 
Dreams of undiscovered charms, 



42 

Bound their witcheiy once about me| 
But, their prisoner now is free. 
Since on every side I see. 

There are fools enough without me ! 

Pr'ythee, Cupid, hence — desist — 
Why should I increase the list? 



43 



CANZONET. (V.N.) 



' Tiempo ! que todo mudas, 
' El verde majito qucy" &c. 



X low'rs are fresh^ and bushes green. 

Cheerily the linnets sing; 
Winds are soft, and skies serene; 

Time, however, soon shall throw 
Winter^s snow 
O'er the buxom breast of Spring. 

Hope that buds in Lover's heart. 

Lives not through the scorn of years; 
Time makes Love itself depart. 

Time and scorn congeal the mind; 
Looks unkind 
Freeze Affection's w^armest tears ! 



44 

Time shall make the bushes green. 

Time dissolve the Winter-snow, 
Winds be soft, and skies serene. 

Linnets sing their wonted strain. 
But again. 
Blighted Love shall never blow ! 



45 



CANZONET. 

(vide remarks on camoens, page 9.) 



" Polo meu apartainenio 
" Se arrazad,'^ &c. 



I WHISPERED her my last adieu, 
I gave a mournful kiss ; 

Cold showers of sorrow bath'd her eyes. 
And her poor heart was torn with sighs 
Yet — strange to tell — ^twas then I knew 
Most perfect bliss.— 

For Love, at other times suppressed. 
Was all betrayM at this — 

I saw him weeping in her eyes, 
I heard him breathe amongst her sighs. 
And ev'ry sob which shook her breast^ 
ThrilPd mine with bliss. 



46 

The sight which keen Affection clears. 
How can it judge amiss? 

To me, it pictured hope ; and taught 
My spirit this consoling thought. 
That Love's sun, tho' it rise in tears. 
May set in bliss ! 



47 



RONDEAU. (V.N.) 



'' Com Amor a rosa, 
** Hue tad fresca^^ &c. 



Just like Love is yonder rose. 
Heavenly fragrance round it throws. 
Yet tears its dewy leaves disclose. 
And in the midst of briars it blows. 
Just like Love. 

Cull'd to bloom upon the breast. 
Since rough thorns the stem invest. 
They must be gather'd with the rest 
And with it, to the heart be prest. 
Just like Love, 



48 

And when rude hands the twin-buds sever. 
They die — and they shall blossom never, 
— Yet the thorns be sharp as ever. 
Just like Love. 



49 



STANZAS. (F. N.J 



'' Os bos vi sempre passar 
" No mundjo^ &c. 



1 SAW the virtuous man contend 
With lifers unnumber'd woes; 

And he was poor — without a friend— 
PressM by a thousand foes. 

I saw the Passions* pliant slave 

In gallant trim, and gay; 
His course was Pleasure's placid wave. 

His life, a summer's day. — 

And I was caught in Folly's snare. 
And joined her giddy train — 

But found her soon the nurse of Care, 
And Punishment, and Pain. 



50 

There surely is some guiding Pow^r 
Which rightly suffers wrong — 

Gives Vice to bloom its little hour — 
But Virtue, late and long! 



51 



CANZONET. (V.N.) 



" Estasse a primavera trasladada 
*' Em vossa vista,^* &c. 



Spring in gay and frolic hour, 

Deck'd my love from many a flow'r; 

Bade young hyacinths diffuse 

0*er her locks their scented dews; 

Plac'd the violet*s darker dyes 

In her all-imperial eyes ; 

Made her glowing cheek display 

Roses, just their prime attaining; 

But reservM the buds for staining 
Lips, as fresh and firm as they ! 

Dear one! he whose amorous suit 
Fain would turn thy blooms to fruit; 
Does he merit thus from thee. 
Piercing thorns of cruelty? 



52 



CANZON. (V.N.) 



" Qiiando o sol encuherto vay mostrando 
" Ao 7nundo a liiz quieta^'* &c. 



VV HEN day has smilM a soft farewell^ 
And night-drops bathe each shutting bell. 
And shadows sail along the green. 
And birds are still, and winds serene, 
I w^ander silently. 

And while my lone step prints the dew. 
Dear are the dreams that bless my view, 
To Memory ^s eye the maid appears. 
For whom have sprung my sweetest teai's. 
So oft, so tenderly: 



53 

I see her, as with graceful care 
She binds her braids of sunny hair; 
I feel her harp^s melodious thrill 
Strike to ray heart — and thence be still 
Re-echoM faithfully: 

I meet her mild and quiet eye. 
Drink the warm spirit of her sigh. 
See young Love beating in her breast. 
And wish to mine it^s pulses prest, 

God knows how fervently ! 

Such are my hours of dear delight. 
And morn but makes me long for night. 
And think how swift the minutes flew. 
When last amongst the dropping dew, 
I wanderM silently. 



54 



MADRIGAL, (V.N.) 



*' Nunca manhaS suave 

** Estendendo sens rayos,*^ &c. 



XJear is the blush of early light 
To him who ploughs the pathless deep. 
When winds have rav^d throughout the night. 
And roaring tempests banish'd sleep — 
Dear is the dawn, which springs at last. 
And shows him all his peril past. 

Dearer to me the break of day. 
Which thus thy bended eye illumes; 
And chasing fear and doubt away. 
Scatters the night of mental glooms. 
And bids my spirit hope at last, 
A rich reward for peril past ! 



i 



i 



55 



MADRIGAL. (V. N.) 



** Q>U€m se confia em hus olhos 
'* Nas meninas delles ue," &c. 



1 HE simple youth who trusts the fair. 
Or on their plighted truth relies. 

Might learn how vain such follies were. 
By looking in his lady's eyes. 
And catch a hint, if timely wise. 

From those dumb children, cradled there! 

'^ Poor fool! thy wayward feats forbear," 
(Those mute advisers seem to say) 

'* And hence with sighs, and tears, and care, 
" For thou but fling^st thy heart away, 
'-' To make a toy — for babies' play/* 



o6 



CANZONET. (V.N.j 



*' Nad set quern assella 
" Vossa fermosuTa^^ &c. 



Ihou hast an eye of tender blue^ 
And thou hast locks of Daphne^s hue, 
And cheeks that shame the morning's break. 
And lips that might for redness make 

Roses seem pale beside them; 
But whether soft or sweet as they, 
Lady ! alas, I cannot say. 

For I have never tried them. 

Yet, thus created for delight. 
Lady ! thou art not lovely quite. 
For dost thou not this maxim know, 
That Prudery is Beauty's foe. 



57 

A stain that mars a jewel! 
And e^en that woman^s angel face^ 
Loses a portion of its grace. 

If woman's heart be cruel ! 

Love is a sweet and blooming boy. 
Yet glowing with the blush of joy. 
And (still in youth's delicious prime) 
Though ag'd as patriarchal Time, 

The withering god despises : 
Lady ! would 'st thou for ever be 
As fair, and young, and fresh as he — 

Do all that Love advises i 



ss 



STANZAS. 



*' Trahalkos descansariao 

" Se para vos trabalkasse,'* &c. 



X Es — labour, love ! and toil would please. 

Were toil and labour borne for thee; 
And Fortune's nursling, lapM on ease. 
In wealth of heart be poor to me! 

Why should I pant for sordid gain? 

Or why Ambition^s voice believe ? 
Since, dearest, thou dost not disdain 

The only gift I have to give. 

Time would with speed of lightning flee. 
And every hour a comfort bring. 

And days and years, employM for thee. 
Shake pleasures from their passing wing: 



59 



CANZON. 



' Sepa, quien padece, 

' ^ue en la sepoltura,^* &c. 



O WEEP not thus — we both shall know 

Erfe long a happier doom; 
There is a place of rest below. 
Where thou and I shall surely go. 
And sweetly sleep, released from woe 
Within the tomb. 

My cradle was the couch of Care, 

And Sorrow rockM me in it; 
Fate seem'd her saddest robe to wear. 
On the first day that saw me there. 
And darkly shadowM with despair 

My earliest minute. 



60 

E^en then the griefs I now possess. 

As natal boons were given ; 
And the fair form of Happiness, 
Which hovered round, intent to bless, 
ScarM by the phantoms of distress, 

FJew back to heaven ! 

For I was made in Joy's" despite. 
And meant for Misery's slave ; 
And all my hours of brief delight 
Fled, like the speedy winds of night. 
Which soon shall veil their sullen flight 
Across my grave ! 



61 



CANZON, 



*» Pues me distes tal herida 

** Con gana de darme muerte,^* &c. 



When I am donie to death by thee. 

And cold thy lover lies; 
Turn to me, dear one; turn and sec 

Thy beauty^s sacrifice ! 

Turn to me^ dear — and haply then 
Thy looks may life restore ; 

And teach the heart to beat again. 
That beat for thee before ! 



62 

Turn to me, dear ! and should a gem 

On those soft eyelids shine — 
Fall holy balm — fall fast from them 

In showers, and waken mine. — 

Turn — and from lips that breathe of May^ 

If one kind kiss be given, — 
He who in deathly slumber lay. 

Slept— but to wake in Heaven ! 



63 



CANZONET. (V.N.) 



'* Os olhos socegados,^^ &c. 



J-iADY ! when with glad surprise, 
I meet thy soft and shaded eyes. 
Or lost in dreams of love behold. 
Thy waving locks of darkenM gold> 
Or press the lip, whose dew discloses 
Sweets, that seem the breath of roses. 
Lady ! I sigh — and with a tear. 
Swear earth is heav'n — if thou art near ! 

But when (the hour of transport o^er) 
My soQps delight is seen no more. 
Remembering all thy host of charms, 
I tremble then with wild alarms; 

And, taught by jealous doubt, discover 
In every gazing youth, a lover; 
Confessing with a silent tear 
That heaven and hell are wond^rous near! 



64 



CANZON. (V.N.) 



" .9^ as penas com que Amor too mal me trata 
*' Permiterem que eu tanto viva dellas,^^ &c. 



OHOULD I but live a little more. 
Nor die beneath thy cold disdain. 

These eyes shall see thy triumphs o^er. 
Shall see the close of Beauty's reign. 

For Timers transmuting hand shall turn 
Thy locks of gold to ^' silvery wires;'' 

Those starry lamps shall cease to burn. 
As nov/, with more than heav'nly fires. 

Thy ripenM cheek no longer wear 
The ruddy blooms of rising dawn; 

And eyer^r tiny dimple there 

In wriBkled lines be roughly drawn! 



65 

And oh ! what shoVrs of fruitless woe 
Shall fall upon that fatal day — 

How wilt thou weep the frequent ^^ no/ 
How mourn occasion past away. 

Those vain regrets^ and useless sighs. 
Shall in my heart no pity move — 

1^11 deem them but a sacrifice 
Due to the shade of buried Love ! 



66 



STANZAS. 

TO NIGHT. fV. N,) 



Segreda noite Amiga, a que obede^o. 
As rosas," &c. 



Night! to thee my vows are paid; 
Not that e^er thy quiet shade 
Me, in bower of dalliance laid 

Blest and blessing, covers ! 
No — for thy friendly veil was made 

To shroud successful lovers; 
And I, Heaven knows. 
Have never yet been one of those 
Whose love has provM a thornless rose ! 



67 

But since (as piteous of my pain) 
Goddess! when I to thee complain 
Of truth despisM and hard disdain, 

Theu dost so mutely listen ; 
For this, around thy solemn fane 

Young buds I strew, that glisten 
With tears of woe 
By jealous Tithon made to flow. 
From Morning — thine eternal foe ! 



f2 



68 



CANZON. (V.N.) 



Arvore! que hrando e bellOf** &c. 



Ihou pride of the forest! whose dark branches 

spread 

To the sigh of the south-wind their tremulous 

green. 

And the tinge of whose buds is as rich and as red 

As the mellowing blushes of maiden eighteen! 

O^er thee may the tempest in gentleness blow. 
And the lightnings of Summer pass harmlessly 

by; 

For ever thy buds keep their mellowing glow. 
Thy branches still wave to the southernly sigh. 



69 

Because in thy shade^ as I lately reclinM, 
The sweetest of visions arose to my view; 

^Twas the swoon of the soul — ^twas the transport 
of mind — 
^Twas the happiest minute that ever I knew. 

For this shalt thou still be my favourite tree, — 
In the heart of the poet thou never canst fade; 

It shall often be warmM by remembering thee. 
And the dream which I dreamt in thy tremu- 
lous shade. 



70 



CANZONET. (V.K) 



** Eit cantey jii, e agora,^^ kc. 



How sprightly were the roundelays 
I sang in Love's beginning days; 
— Now, alas, I but deplore 
Death of all that blest before ! 

Then my heart was in its prime, 
TTwas Aflection^s buddino- time! 
— It is broken now — and knows 
One sense only — sense of woes I 

Joy was whilom dashM with ill, 
Yet my songs were cheerful still; 
— ^They were like the captive's strains, 
Chaunted to the sound of chains! 



71 



CANZON. (V. N.J 



*' A minha dor, e o nome^'^ &c. 



Why should I indiscreetly tell 
The name my heart has kept so well? 
Why to the senseless crowd proclaim 
For whom ascends my bosom-flame ? 

Alas, there are but very few 

Who feel as I for ever do — 

And hear, with shrinking sense of pain. 

Holy words from lips profane ! 

For she is holy in my sight 
As are the seraph forms of light; 
And that blest name denotes whatever 
Of orood thi^e be — or chaste — or fair. 



72 

Of her, in time of heaviest woe, 
I think, and tears forget to flow; 
Of her, in passion^s fervid dreams. 
And rapture^s self the sweeter seems. — ^ 

And shall the name, whose magic pow^r 
Throws light on every passing hour. 
Shall it, a word of usage grown. 
By every heartless fool be known? 

No — let it, shrin'd within my breast, 
A little saint, for ever rest. 
With pious ardours worshippM there,* 
Yet never mentioned, but in prayer ! 



73 



CANZONET. (V.N.) 



'* A DAMA qUE JURAVA PELOS SEUS OLHOS.'* 

THE LADY WHO SWORE BY HER EYES, 



** 'Huando me quiz enganar 
^* A minha bellaperjura," &c. 



When the girl of my heart is on perjury bent. 
The sweetest of oaths hide the falsest intent. 
And Suspicion abashM, from her company flies. 
When she smiles like an angel- — and swears by 
her eyes. 

For in them such magic, she knows, is displayM, 
That a tear can convince, and a look can persuade ; 
And she thinks that I dare not, or cannot, refuse 
To believe on their credit whatever she may choose. 



74 

But Pve learnM from the painful experience of 

youths 
That vehement oaths never constitute truth ; 
And Pve studied those treacherous eyes^ and I find 
They are mutable signs of a mutable mind ! 

Then;, dear one, Pd rather, thrice rather beheve 
Whatever you assert, even though to deceive. 
Than that you '' by your eyes'^ should so wickedly 

swear. 
And sin against heaven — for heaven is there ! 



•75 



PART OF THE THIRD ELEGY. 

(V.N.) 



*' Suhionense Ovidio desferrado 
** Na aspereza,^' &c. 



VV HEN that sweet bard, to whose harmonious hand 
Lovers golden harp in softest warblings sighM^ 
By stars unkind was too severely tried. 
And forcM afar from Rome^s parental land 
To pace with weary step the Pontic strand; 

What a cold rush of recollections came 
Across the exile's sad and sinking mind. 
When Memory drew the joys he left behind ! 
Her, who so long had fanned his chaster flame. 
His babes — his home — and all that charmM before. 
And all that blest him once, — but ne^er shall bless 
him more. 



76 

Poor banish'd wretch ! — he had not powers to bear 

The vast, unutterable pangs of thought; 

But still in woods, and wilds, and caverns sought 
A secret covert from the murderer Care ; 
Now slowly wandering through the midnight air. 

In briarM dell he roams, or pathless grove. 
While vainly sings the mellow nightingale. 
Unheard by him — although she chaunt a tale 

So like his own — so sad — so full of love — 
ClosM are his ears — and dim his moistenM eyes 
That view with dull regard the cold and starry skies. 



I 



n 



CANZONET. 



" Nad nos engane a riqueza^ 
" Forqu,^' &c. 



Since in this dreary vale of tears 
No certainty but death appears. 
Why should we waste our vernal years 
In hoarding useless treasure ? 

No — let the young and ardent mind 
Become the friend of human kind. 
And in the generous service find 

A source of purer pleasure ! 



18 

Better to live despis'd and poor. 
Than Guilt^s eternal stings endure ; 
The future smile of God shall cure 

The wound of earthly woes. 

Vain world ! did we but rightly feel 
What ills thy treacherous charms conceal. 
How would we long from thee to steal 

To Death — and sweet repose ! 



19 
CANZON. (V.N.) 

Vi moqoj e pequenino," &C. 



1 MET Love wandering o^er the wild. 
In semblance of a simple child; 
I heard his name, and in the sound 
So much of sweet persuasion found. 
That piteous of his tears, I prest 
The little darling to my breast, 
And watched his quiet slumbers there. 
With all a father's tender care ! 

From day to day the orphan grew. 
And with him my affection too ; 
Till at the last, around my mind 
The winning boy so closely twinM, 
I learnt his baby form to prize. 
Like one of those within mine eyes. 
And lov^d the young adopted more 
Than ever sire did son before; 



80 
I had a bank of favourite flowVs 
Which blossom^ e'en in wintry hours. 
Content, the bosom's thorn less rose. 
And innocence, and heart's repose; 
— Love, like a rude and wanton boy. 
Broke into my bow'rs of joy, 
Tore Content's young roses thence, 
Kill'd repose — and innocence! 

Ah wretch! what mischief hast thou don 
To him who lov'd thee like a son! 
How couldst thou dim the doating eyes 
Which did thee like their babies prize? 
How break the heart of him who prest 
Thee, cold and weeping to his breast. 
And watch'd thy quiet slumbers there. 
With all a father's tender carer 



81 



CANZON. 

« EL PEQUENO SONRISO.'' 

FROM 

RIACHUELO. 



TO INES DE CUETE. 

JDear lues^ wouldst thou but believe 
A heart that knows not to deceive, 

(Alas nor longer free;) 
That faithful heart should truly tell 
The secret charm^ the tender spell, 

That bound it first to thee. 

^Tis not, that cradled in thine eyes 
The baby Love for ever lies 

On couches dippM in dew; 
'Tis not because those eyes have won 
Their tempered light from April's sun. 

From Heaven their tints of blue! 



82 
'Tis not that o'er a bank of snow 
Thy parted tresses lightly flow. 

In waves of lucid gold; 
-Nor yet because the hand of grace 
Has formM that dear inchanting face 

In beauty's happier mould! 

It was not these— but from my soul. 
It was a little smile that stole ^ 

The cherished sweets of rest; 
And ever since, from dawn to night 
And night to dawn, it haunts my sight. 

In dimples gaily drest. 



1 This sentiment is very like some beautiful lines of 
Clement Marot. 



Du ris cie Madame d' Allehret, 

'' Elle ha tres bien cette gorge d'albastre, 
" Ce doulx parler, ce clair tainct, ce beaulx yc jx, 

'' Mais en effect, ce petit ris foUastre 
*' C'est a mon gre ce qui luy sied le mieux." 



83 

•E'en now by Fancy^s eyes are seen 
The polish'd rows that break between 

Two h'ps that breathe of May^; 
E'en now — but oh, by Passion taught. 
Young Fancy forms too bold a thought 

For timorous Love to say! 

Yet, Ines — wpuldst thou but believe 
A heart that knows not to deceive, 

(Alas! nor longer free;) 
'T would tell thee, thou canst ne'er impart, 
A smile of thine to soothe a heart 

More truly bound to thee ! 



♦ Literally, " Desangre y leche pintados J^* This simile, 
which in our language would convey any idea but that of 
beauty, is nevertheless very common in Spanish Poetry. 
CAM0E?is too has frequently adopted it. 



SONNETS, 

(V.N.) 



81 



SONNET I. (F. X. 1 



** O €mUo divimat tr refrhravm 
" No IfWipio d- 



^NVEETLY was heard the anthem's choral strain, 
y\nd myriads bow'd liefore thr sainted shrine^ 
In solemn reverence to their Sire divine. 

Who gave the Lamb, for guilty mortals slain: 

\Vhen« in the midst of God's eternal fane, 
(Ah little weening of his fill design ^ 
lx)vc bore the heart (whii h since hath ne'ei 

been mine) 
» one, who seem'd of hca?'n's elected train! 

I T sanctity of place or time were vain, 

'(Jainiitthat blind archcr*ssoul-con<uraingpow'r 

Which scorns, and soars all circumstance above. 

< >l», l^dy ! since I've worn tliy gentle chain. 
How oft have I deplor'd each wasted hour^ 

When I was free — and had not learn'd to love ! 



88 



SONNET II. rV. N.J 



" Cistie, quando sente ser chegada 
" A hora que poem, ^^ &c. 



While on the margin of his native shores. 
In death^s cold hour the silver cygnet lies. 
Soft melodies of woe, and tuneful sighs. 
And lamentations wild, he plaintive pours. 
Still chariuM of life— and w'hilst he yet deplores 
The drear, dark night that seals his closing eyes. 
In murmur'd grief for lost existence — dies! 
So, Lady, (thou, whom still my soul adores). 

While scarcely lingering in a w^orld of pain, 
My wearied spirit treads the verge of death—- 
O Lady, then thy Poet^s parting breath 

Shall faintly animate his final song. 
To tell of broken vows — and cold disdain — 
And unrequited love — and cruel wrong! 



89 



SONNET III. CF. N.J 



^ ** Agora toma a espada, agora a pens, 
^* Eslacio liossOf^ &c. 



XiUSTACE! or when you wield the ponderous 
spear. 

Or mingle in the bard's romantic throng. 

To you, eternal palms of fame belong! 
To Mars alike, and to the Muses dear. 
Whether adown the waves of war you steer. 

Or sail upon the tranquil streams of song. 
O, if awhile, with cadence clear and strong. 
My reed might hope to charm your learned ear. 

All undebas*d by aught of pastoral sound, 
Then^ Eustace, would that humble reed proclaim, 

How you (for valour as for verse renown'd) 

Shall win the warrior's and the poet's praise. 
And like a watch-tow'r on the steeps of fame, 

Show'r light upon the sons of distant days! 



yo 



SONNET IV. (F. X.J 



** No mundo poucns anos r rnnsados 
** Vivif chi'os de vil miser ia^^^ &.C. 



Slowly and heavily the time lias run 

Which I have journey *d on this earthly stage; 

For, scarcely entering on my prime of age. 
Grief mark'd me for her own; ere yonder sun 
Had the fifth lustrum of my days begun: 

And since, compulsive Fate and Fortune's rage 

Have led my steps a long, long pilgrimage 
In search of lost repose, but finding none! 

For that fell star which o'er my cradle hung, 
Forc'd me from dear Alamquer's rustic charms. 
To combat perils strange and dire alarms, 

^Midst that rough main, whose angry waters roar 
Rude Abyssinia's cavern'd cliffs among, 

— Far from green Portugal's parental shore 1 



91 
SONNET V. 

(VID. N. AND LIFE OF CAMOENS, PAGE 9.) 
'^ Aquella iriste e leda madrugada,^^ &c. 



1 ILL Lovers' tears at parting cease to flow. 

Nor sunder'd hearts by strong despair be torn ; 

So long recorded be that April morn 
When gleams of joy were dashM with showers ot' 

woe : 
Scarce had the purpling east began to glow. 

Of mournful men it saw me most forlorn; 

Saw those hard pangs, by gentle bosoms borne, 
(The hardest sure that gentle bosoms know!) 
— But oh, it saw Love's charming secret told 
By tears fast dropping from celestial eyes. 
By sobs of grief, and by such piteous sighs 

As e'en might turn th^ infernal caverns cold. 
And make the guilty deem their sufferings ease. 
Their torments luxury — compared to these! 



M 



SONNET VI. rr. .v.; 



* ' Jmigawu m i^enU todm par perdtda 

** Vendnme too rnlre^me a wtrm emfdmi^J* kjc. 



M V ten!ie9 lo^, misjuflfl^iug men declare, 
AikI Reason lianishM from her mental throne, 
Hcriu«ie I shun the rn^wd, and dwell alone 

\\\ the ralm tnnce ofundisturb'd despair. 

Tears all my pleasure — all my comfort care! 
Bui I have known, from long experience known, 
I low vain the worship to those idoU shown. 

Which charm the world, and reign unrivaU'd 
there : 

Pjcunl ilrramsof pow'r, and tnrtune's i^ihicd glare. 
The* lights that blaze in tall Ambition 't» ton'r, 
For such, let others waste life's little hour 

In toil and weary search — but be it mine. 
Lady ! to muse of thee — and in my bow'r 

Pour to tiiy praise the soul-impaision'd line! 



93 



SONNET VII. (V. N.J 



** Sf quando tor prrdt^ minha esprrar.-a 
*' A tnemona perdera rintanunUt'* A.C. 



When from my Iioart the hand of Fortune tore 
Those smiling hopes that cheer'd mine earlier 

day. 
Would that she too had kindly hornc away 

The sweetly sad remembrances of yore! 

I should not then, as now, in tears deplore 
My buried bliss, and comfort's fast decay; 

—For Love (on whom my vain dependance lav) 

Still lingering on delights that live no more. 
Kills all my peace — whene'er the tyrant sees 
My spirit taste a little hour ofea.se! 

Fell star of fate! thou never canst employ 
A torment teeming with severer smart. 
Than that which Memory pours upon the heart. 

While clinging round the sepulchre of joy! 



94 



SONNET VIII. rr. N.J 






AIoNDEco! thou, whov waters coW aod clear 
Gird thoie frreen bankj, where Fancy fim 

would stay, 
Fondly to mu»r on that departed day 

Whvn Hope was kind, and Friendihip iieem*d 
sincere ; 

— l>e I had purrha^'d knowlcdtrc with a tear. 
— Mondcgol though I bind my pilgrim way 
To other shores, where other foaDtiiins stray. 

And other rivers roll their proud career, 

Still — nor shall lime, nor grief, nor aUn scvtre. 
Nor widening di5tance e'er prerail in aus^ht 

To make thee less to this sad bomn dear; 
And Memory oft, by old Afl'ection tanght. 
Shall lightly speed upon the plumes of thought. 

To bathe amongst thy waters cold and clear! 



SONNKT IX. . / . X 



** Quern dtz que amor he f alto ou eng^nom 



IjivEs there a \%tcU'Ii, who \\oui<l prutanely dare 

On Love bestow a tyrant's barbarous name. 

And foe to every sofl deUght, proclaim 
His service, slavery ; its wages, care ? 
Tor evfr niay he prove it so, nor e'er 

Feel the dear transports of that generous flame; 

For him nor maiden smile, nor melting dame 
i'he silent couch of midnight bliss prepare! 

For much he wrongs the gentlest, best of pow'rs, 
W 1jo>o very pangs can charm, and torments please. 

Whom long I've known, and in whose angriest 
hoars 
Such rapture found, as would 1 not forego. 
No — not forego, for all the dead, cold ease 

Which dull Indifference could e'er bestow* 



Hit 



SONNET X. rr. N.J 



•• farajattrdtt;' hue. 



CoMF, tell mr, fairest, from what orirnt minr 
Whore undiscover'd lurk the springs of <i;i\ , 
Did thy triumphant tresses steal away 

Their sunny tinges, and their hues divine? 

What magic makes thine eye so sweetly shine. 
Like the clear breaking of a summer's clay ! 

And when did Ocean's rifled caves resign 
The pearly wealth thy parted lips betray. 

When they are sever'd by seducing smiles? 
— Yet hear me, fairest, si nccwithbarbarousc^are. 

Such store of blandishment and dangerous wiles^ 
To thee thy star's propitious genius gare, — 
— Warn'd by the self adorer's fate, beware, 

Nor gaze on youder fount*s reflecting wave ! 



9T 



SONNET XI. (V.N J 



' Apollo e as nuve musas descantando 
' Com a dourada lira,^'* 3cc. 



>V HAT time the liberal Muses deign'd to show'r 
Soft inspirations o'er my golden lyre. 
Love, only love, would all my notes iiisj)irf. 

While thus I sang, within my cottage-bowV — 

• — O blessed be the day, and blest the hour, 

•' When first I felt the sweets of young desire; 
" Blest be the eyes that woke my ara'rous tire, 

* And blest the heart, so soon that own'd their 

pow'r!'' 
Such was of old my cheerful roundelay, 
lili time made all llie dear delusion flee. 

Tore from my heart, not love, but hope, away. 
And turning all my sunny scenes to night, 
Veil'd every prospect from my sickening sight, 
Save those of greater ills — if greater be! 
w 



^ 



SONNET XII. (V. X.J 



'* Em Jlor zoj arrancou (Ttn*^* > . »iii i . 
*' Ah Scnhor Dom Antonio^^ Slc, 



JDear lost Antonio! whilst I yet deplore 

My lK)som's friend — and mourn the withering 

blow 
Which laid, in nianlv flo>s i, in. vsarnoi 1«»\n, 

Whose valour shaniM tlic glorious deeds of yore; 

E'en while mine eyes their humid tribute pour. 
My spirit feels a Bad delight, to know 
That thou hast but resigned a world of woe 

Forone,wherepainsandgriefsshalI wound nomore; 
Tho' torn, alas, from this sublunar sphere. 

For ever torn, by War's ungentle hand. 

Still, were the Muse but as Affection strong, 
My dead Antonio should revive in song. 

And, graced by Poetry's '^ melodious tear,'* 

Live, in the memory of a grateful land! 



99 



SONNET XIII. fF. N.J 



A fcrmosura desta fresca terra 

E (I somhra (hs vcrdcs castanhfiros,^^ !kC. 



Silent and cool, now fresh'ning breezes blow 
Where srrovcs of chesnut crown yon shadowy 

And all around the tears of Evening weep 
For closing day, whose vast orb, westering slow. 
Flings o'er th'embattled clouds a mellower glow. 

While hunioffolded herds, and murmuring deep. 

And falling rills, such gentle cadence keep. 
As t \mi might soothe the weary heart of woe: 

Ytt what tome is eve, what evening airs. 
Or falling rills, or ocean's murmuring sound. 

While sad and comfortless I seek in vain 

Her who in absence turns my joy to cares, 
And as I cast my listless glances round. 

Makes varied scenery but varied pain! 



100 



SONNET XIV. rV. N.J 



*' Senhora minka se afortuna imiga 
** Swe em minhajim,^^ &c. 



IVIy best belov'd! — although unpitying skies 
And wrathful fortune sternly thus conspire 
To bid thy servant's lingering steps retire 
Far from the temperM gleam cf beauty's eyes — 
Bound still to thine by Love's eternal ties. 

That heart remains, where chaste and warm 

desire. 
Yet fondly glows with all its former fire. 
And Death's cold touch and wastingTime defies — 
— Yes — and as urg'd by ,Fate's commands I go 
To farthest regions, and unkindest shores. 
Oh there, thy magic name's mysterious charm 
Breath'd in a sigh, shall danger's self disarm. 
And while the combat raves, or tempest roars. 
Lull the loudstorm,andso©the the threat'ningfoe! 



101 



SONNET XV. (V. N.J 



" Eu canteyja d*amor tad docemente 
" 2m-?," &c. &c. 



I SANG of love — ^and in so sweet a strain^ 
That hearts most hard were softenM at the sound. 
And blushing girls, who gaily throngM around^ 

Felt their souls tingle with ^delightful pain — 

For quaintly did my chaunted songs explain 
Those little secrets that in love abound — 
Life in a kiss, and death in absence found — 

Feign'd anger — ^slow consent — and coy disdain. 
And hardihood, at length with con quest crown'd. 

Yet did I not with these* rude lips proclaim 
From whom my song such sweet instructions 

drew. 
Too weak, alas! to pour the praises due 

From youthful gratitude, to grace the name 
Of her, who kindly taught me all she knew! 



102 



SOWTT yVT rr V I 



' St tU t/Uhft Lmmfm m/erm^mrm 



If those famM charms which gnc'ci the Totcan 
fair 

Could wake .* . . ;. . ;... 

lady! to you, sure heaT'nIy longi arc di<' , 
Sinn Ileav'n haii fonri'd yoo with peculiar can 
Thru how, ala.% f^hall humblr Liu> dare 

Attune hii simple melodies to you? 

Must I not trust to that kind chance anciii' 
Which whilom wore the roty bands I bear, 
(Whrn fir^t it gave you to my aroortMis view.) 

— For certes, Uidy, you derive your birth 

From yoD pure sky, and did from thence detcen < ' 
To cherish virtue on this lowly earth, 

And mortal hearts of baser mould amend, 
I^y bright example of superior worth! 



103 



SONNET XVII. rr. N.J 



** Em vhia de la^rirtuu hento 
" Nmm engano tao docf," &c. 



I* ROM sorrow free, .nnl l* n , .iml uun clL->j)aii, 

I liv'd tontcnteci in a swiet riposc ; 

I fii'ecleii not the happier Ktar of thost- 
Whose amoroiMwili'sathiev'd each fonqiR'r'dtair; 
[Sucli bli?i!i I deem'ti lull dearly bought with care :) 

Mine wa-H meek Love, that ne'er to frenzy rose. 

And for itii partners in my lioul I chose 
Iknevolence, that never dreamt a snare, 
Aud Independence, proudly cherish 'd there! 
— Dead now is Happiness — 'tis past, 'tis o'er — 

And in its place, the thousand thoughts of yore. 
Which haunt my melancholy l>osom, seem 
Like the faint memory of a pleasing dream — 

They charm a moment — and they are no more ! 



104 
SONNET XVIII. 

' ^ VD Lf Ff OP CAMOIiri, FAOI S.) 

" Lindo sutil tram^^do fmtJkmU " Ice. 
Dfar band, which once adorn'd my worrfiippM 

t Jl'r. 

iifcigr ot that better pift I hope to gain. 
In just re^rard of Love's loDfir.Ruffer'd pain; 
What mighty transport would my bosom share 
Had I but won a tress of that cri«p hair. 

Whose rich luxuriance late thou didst rcMr.un 

Much though I prize thee, mast x^^^ I... .r. 

plain. 
Since deem'd not worthy next lU poise to wear 

A little portion of that precious jrold ! 
Dear band, my miser soul were grieved indeed, 
That stars severe and ^^-ayward fate withhold 
Truth\s just reward, and long affection's meed, 

Vax\ that I know 'tis in Love's legends told. 
Gifts small as these, to greatest blessings lead ' 



U)^ 



SONNET XIX. fJ'. X.J 



" Senhor Joao Lop^z, o meu bauco estado, 
•* Oniem vi posto errty^* &c. 



O Lopez! yesterday the stars were kind. 
And on my lowly state so fairly smil'd. 
That even thou, though Fortune's favoured child, 

For mine would gladly have thy lot resign'd. 

Her form I saw, who chains thy prison'd mind. 
Her voice I heard, which irrusically mild. 
While like a spell it every sense beguiTd, 

E'en luird to peace the rude and restless wind! 

— Lopez! that voice such rare persuasion arm'd. 
That, in a word, our hearts it better charm'd 

Than others could in thrice a thousand more : — 
How have I since 'gainst Fortune rav'd and Love, 

'Cause that blind boy compels us thus t' adore 
Her, whom high fortune rears our hopes above 1 



(06 



SONNET XX. rr. N.J 



" Os oikat ofidr o c9Mto Amor mrim 
•« Ledo de te r^r," Itr. 



1 iiosi. charming < \€%, within whcww nUirr}' sphcr* 
Ix>ve whilom sat, and smiTd the hours away, 
Those braids of light that shain'd the beams ot 
day. 

That hand benignant, and that heart sincer* 

Those virgin chcek.% which did so late app< 
Like 9now-l)anks scatter'd with the blooms of 

May, 
Turn'd to a little cold and worthless clay. 

Arc gone — for ever gone — and perish here, 

— Hut not uiihathM by Memory's wannest tear! 
— Death! tiiou hast torn, in one unpityintr hour 
That fragrant plant, to which, while scarce a 
flow'r, 

iliu nu llower fruitai:^e of \U prime \nxs ^iven; 

Love saw the deed — and as he linger'd near, 
Sigh'd o'er the ruin, and retum'd to Heav'n! 



107 



(%pamft.) 



'* Mi nutui y dmUe querela 
•* Et imvinLie,^* Slc, 



\\ iHiiN my bosom's cell I bear 
A recent wound — a valued woe; 

It lurks unseen and buried there. 
No gazing eyes my secret know. 

It was, perhaps, too plainly told. 

When last I heard the speaking maid; 

— The rock untouched was hard and cold, 
— The stricken Hint its fires betravM! 

# 



ixsiAir CANTO vr 



BffTANClA XXXV HI. 

No f undo aqfioro^ a Itda c la^^^ '"•^' 
Com vcnto sossrgado prosrguia 

Pclo Iranquillo mar^ a ioHga rota : 
Era no tempo quando a luz do dia 
Do Eoo cmisfcrio cstd rcmota 
Os do quarto da prima sc deitdvam 
Pa) a o srgiind0 os ontros derpcrtavam. 



uw 



N 1 (_i 1 1 i > V I 



ri. LUSIAD. 



WXVIU. 

Mlahtime ai lilus tx^low the innrmuring deeps 
In lolenin council meet the vniUsxy train, 

llrr boW caniT the wearied navy keeps, 

'S*. f I ] .'ir'd by H'"" ^^J'ilc o'er the traiM)uil 
iiain, 

I o silence bttsh*d, the brooding tempest sleeps: 
— Twa.* at the hour, whvu long the soUr wain 

H.kI rolTci down II(av*n — und rous'J froni warm 

" low at their comrades' call ibe jecondwatchaT'> ><• 



110 
XXXIX. 

Vencidos vein do sonOy e mal despertos 
Bocejando a meudo^ sa encostavao 

Pelas antenas^ todos mal cuhertos 
Contra os agiidos ares, que assopra- 
vad; 

Os olhos contra sen querer abertos 
Mal esfregando^os memhros estiravaoy 

Remedios contra o sono bitscar queremy 

Historias contain^ casos mil referem. 

XL. 

Com que melhor podemos^ hum dizia^ 
Este tempo passar^ que he tab pesado, 

Senao com algum conto de alegria 
Com que nos deixe o sono carregado ? 

Responde Leonardo^ que trazia 
Fensamentos de firme namoradoy 

^ue contos poderemos ter melhores 

Para passar o tempo ^ que de amores ? 



Ill 



XXXIX. 



Scarcely awake, against the tapering mast. 
Heavy and cold recline the languid crew; 

The broad sail, flapping, wards the nightly blast. 
Which as across the decks it keenly blew 

Through their worn garbs with piercing chillness 
past; 
And each tirM limb they stretch, lest sleep subdue 

Their lids that long to close, and all devise 

By converse short and forced, to shun his soft sur- 
prise. 



XL. 

'^ How can we better these dull hours employ, 
'^ How sleep defy,^^ one watchful youth demands, 

*' Than by some gay romance, some tale of joy, 
" To spur the time that now so stilly stands ?^^ 

^^ Yes,^^ Leonard cries, (whom long the archer boy 
Had prisonM fast in beauty^s gentle bands,) 

'^ Yes,'' Leonard cries, *"' 'twill charm the tedious 
night 

•' To tell of venturous loves, and deeds of soft de- 
light.'' 



112 
XLI. 

Nao he disse VellosOy cousa justa 

Tratar brajiduras em tanla aspereza^ 

2ue trabalho do mar que tanto custa 
Nad so/re amoves y nem delieadeza ; 

Antes de guerra fervida e robusta 
A nossa his tor ia seja, pois dureza 

Nossa vida ha de ser, segundo entendo 

2ue trabalho par vir mo esld dize?idn 

XLIf. 

Consentem iiisto todos S^ encomendad 
A Vellosoy que conte isto, que aprova; 

Contarei, disse sem que me reprendad 
De contar cousa fabulosa ou nova: 

E porque os que me ouvirem daqui apren- 
dao 
Afazerfeitos grandes de alta pro-ca, 

Dos iiacidos direi na nossa tcrra^ 

E estes sejao os doze de Inglaterra. 



113 



XLf. 

'• Perish that thought!'' the bold Veloso cries; 

'* Who talks of Love in danger's dire extremes? 
" Shall we, while giant perils round us rise, 

" Shall we attend to those enerving themes? 
" No — rather some tremendous tale devise 

*' Of war's alarms, for such our state beseems — 
" So shall we scorn our present ills, and learn 
" To cope those coming toils my prophet eyes 
discern." 



XLII. 
He spoke — and all accord — and all exclaim, 
" To thee, Veloso, thee, the task is due!" 
'' None then,"he cries, '^shall this narration blame 

" For slighted truth, or fables told as true; 
*' Arms I rehearse, and such high feats of fame, 

'' That all who hear shall glorious deeds pursue, 
'' Fir'd by the praise their own compatriots gained, 
''Whoerstthetilted fight 'gainstEngland's Twelve 
maintain'd. 

I 



114 



XLIII. 

A'o tempo que do reyno a redea leie 
Joabfdho de Pedro moderava^ 

Depois que sossegado e litre o teie. 
Do visinho poder que o ynolestava; 

Ld, na grcmd Inglaferra que de neve 
Boreal sempre abunda, semedva 

Afera Erinnis dura, e via cizania 

Que lustre fosse a nossa Lusitauia ! 



115 



XLIII. 
'' When mighty Juan held the regal reins, 

''(Great Pedro's son) for gentlest sway renownM, 
'' What time he boldly burst those despot chains 

'* Which proud Castile about hiscountry bound. 
'' It happ'd in haughty England's cold domains, 

'' Where Boreal snows for ever clothe the 
ground, 
'' Dire feuds arose — and from that distant shore, 
*' Eternal lights of fame our Lusian warriors bore." 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



MADRIGAL. P. 40. 

This is one of the many poems which Camoen> 
originally wrote in Spanish. There are some of 
his compositions of a more motley description, in 
which he blends two languages together, and 
walks, as he expresses it, " with one foot in Por- 
tugal and the other in Spain.'' Com hum pS a Por^ 
timieza,e outro a Castelhana, 



MADRIGAL, P. 41. 



Matos, in one of his letters, quotes this little 
Poem as the production of Camoens, and on that 
authority only it is here inserted. 



120 



CANZONKT. P. 45 



>lil 111* Ml 



Our poet has managed this trn« .nni 
sentiment in his hapjiicst manner. Notliing is 
more frequent in Provencal poetry than gay and 
romantic descriptions of Spring, " xahcrtin cchc 
thyngc rcncwcth, sane onclir *}., fu»tf^^/* 



RONDEAU. P. 47. 



Perhaps this little Poem, in its present form, has 
no %try just claim to the titJe which it l»pars. 
Like the preceding one, it seems to have bet 
suggested by a hii^t of /f»/^//'« ^fA^rh -» Trouba- 
dour. 

Sweet is love, and sweet is the rase. 
Each has a flow'r, and each has a thorn ; 
Roses die when the cold wind blows, 
Love, it is kiird by lady's scorn! 

• 
1 Surry. 



121 



STANZAS. P. \\\ 

These fine moral lines are remarkable for their 
extreme simplicity. The third Stanza prohably 
alludes to one of those little transgressions of which 
our Poet was often j^uilty, but of which he seldom 
repented. The commentators suppose that it re- 
lates to a negro girl, of nn fiom he was passionately 
fond. They endeavour to defend the irregu- 
larity of his taste, by comparing it to the pen- 
chant of the wisest of men for the dusky Queen 
of Sheba. 

This negro slave was named Joanna, and lo lur 
Camoens -addressed some pretty verses, begin- 
ning. 

The captive which Victory gave to my arms 
Has prison'd my soul in the chain of her cliarm.s; 
So I soothe her w ith gentle good-humour, that she. 
In return, may be more than good-huuiour'd to 
me! &c. 6cc. 



122 



A miitrcss compos'd of flowers is by no mean 
a rarity in the garden of the Moses. Our own 
Spenser has qtiaintly pursued this thought'. 

" Her lippcs did smell like unto gilliflouv 
" Her ruddic cheeks like unto roses red; 
'* Her sncnv)' browcs like budded bcllamours, 
*' Her lovciie ca\ like pinke* but newlic spred; 
" Her good lie bosome like a strawberrie bed ; 
*' Her neck like to a bunch of cullambines, 
" Her hrost like lillies 'ere their leaves be shed, 
*' Her nippirs like young blossom'd jessamines/' 



It must be confessed that the 4th and 6th lines 
of this fanciful Sonnet convey strange ideas of 
the lady*s charms. 

' Sr»nnit «">4 \n«l sh.ik«?[^arc, Sonnet 99. 



123 



CANZON. P. 52. 



Imitated from the 34th Sonnet. The Translator 
humbly presumed, that the graces of this charm- 
ing little Poem would appear to greater advantage 
in its present form than in that of a Sonnet. 

I lie creative powers of fancy, during the ab- 
M^ncc of a mistress, form a favourite subject of 
Provencal poetry. There is a very comical story 
somewhere of a fastidious gallant, whose pervert- 
ed imagination conjured up circumstances, that 
tinally put Love to death. 

Camoens seems to have taken tho him of this 
Poem from Petrarch, Sonnet 90. 



121 

'■^Sennuccio i vb che sappi, 4'C' 

Laura mi volve — 

^ui tutta U77iile e qui la vidi altera, 

Or aspra, or plana, or dispietata, or pia. 

Or vestirsij S^c. S^c. 



And Petrarch was, perhaps, indebted for the 
idea to Ovid. Fast. 2. 769. 

Carpitur attonitos absentis imagine sensm 
Ilk : recordanti plura magisque placent ; 

Sic sedity sic cultafuit, sic stamina nevit, 
JS^eglectcB collo sicjacuere comce; 

Hos liahuit viiltus, hcec illi verba fuerunty 
Hie color, hcBc fades, hie decor oris erat; 

Sic quamvis aberat placitm prosserttiaformce, 
^U(Z dederat prcesens forma manebat amor. 



IMITATED. 

Strange is the pow^r of thought — oft Memory seems 
To view the maid in visionary dreams. 



125 

Or bending o^er the loom with patient care. 

Her white neck shaded by descending hair. 

Or when her song the lapse of time beguiles. 

Or sagely sad, or ripen'd into smiles; 

The same that blush, the same that faultless grace> 

The same those gay bewitcheries of face ; 

— Love deems her near — and hangs upon the form. 

Which Fancy draws — as wishing and as warm ! 



MADRIGAL. P. 54. 



IMITATED FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE FIFTH ODE. 

Boscan, a celebrated Spanish Poet, has a thought 
somewhat similar. 

Como despiies del taupe stoso dia 
La tarde clara suele ser sabrosa, 
Ydespues de la noche tenehrosa 

El resplandor del Sol plazer eifihia ; 

Assi en su padecer el alma mia 

Con la tarde del hien es tan gozosa, Sfc, 



126 

Sweet is evening^s tranquil time^ 
When the day of storms is done; 

Sweet the clear cold hour of prime. 
Night just scattered by the sun; 
— Sweet — but sweeter far to me. 

The dawn of hope diffused by thee ! 



MADRIGAL. P. 55, 

The same term in Portuguese signifies both the 
pupil of the eye and a child. Hence the turn of 
this fanciful poem. Numberless and wretched 
have been the concetti to which this unfortunate 
pun has given birth. In our own language, some- 
thing of the same kind has been attempted by 
Dr. Donne: 

^^ So to engraft oar handes as yet, 

^' Was all the meanes to make us one, 

^' And pictures in our eyes to get 
'^^ Was all our propagation.^' 

THE ECSTACY. 



127 

Donne^s was the age of quaintness, and it is 
surprising that this idea has not been more rami- 
fied and tortured by the Enghsh metaphysical 
poets of that school. 



CANZON. P. 56. 

Some of the comment of Faria has been intro- 
duced into the translation of this poem, and cer- 
tain very necessary Hberties taken with the ori- 
ginal. 

'' Thou hast an e^e," &c. Notwithstanding all 
that has been said, and all that has been written 
to disprove the existence of a real and positive 
standard of beauty, were we to argue from the 
universality of poetical taste in every age, we 
should place the essence of female loveliness in 
the description before us. — Locks of auburn and 
eyes of blue have ever been dear to the sons of 
song. The Translator almost ventures to doubt 



128 

wlieiher llitse two ideas do not enter into ever\ 
combination of charms created by the poetical 
mind. The former are almost constantly accom- 
panied by the advantages of complexion, and by 
that young freshness which defies the imitation 
of art. Sterne even considers them as indicative 
of moral qualities the most amiable, and asserts 
that they denote exuberance in all the warmer, 
and, consequently, in all the better feelings of the 
human heart. The Translator does not wish to 
deem this opinion as wholly unfounded. He is, 
however, aware of the danger to which such a 
confession exposes him, — but he flies for protec- 
tion to the temple of 

** AuREA Venus." 



CANZONET, p. 03. 



This Poem is attributed to Camden s on very 
slight authority. It is certainly a curious speci- 
men of the doggish jealousy too often found in 
the amours of his country. 



129 

*' — that Heaven is ivond'rous near/' This sen- 
timent strikingly resembles some lines of Guillem 
Aesr?ier, an old Prov en^al Poet. 

*^ 2uant cu II quier merce en genoillos 

^' Ela 7ni coipa, et ml ?net ochaisos 

** E raiirna m* cur aveH per mer lo vis 

" £ ela niefai ung regard amoros 

" Et eu le bais la biicha, e*l's ols am^dos 

'' — Adonaj mi par ungjoi de Faradi^K'^' 

IMITATED. 

When at her feet I long have pray'd. 
With pleading eloquence of sighs. 

What bliss to hear the melting maid. 
In lowly murmurs bid me — *' Rise/' — 

How all my bosom-pulses beat 
When with a kiss I seal her eyes ! 

My soul springs forth her soul to meet, 
— They meet and mix — in Paradise^! 

^ TjTwhitt's Chaucer, Ghss. 



130 



CANZON. P. r 4. 



The shortness of life, says one of our most elt - 
gant writers, is equally favourable to the ar^^u- 
ments of the voluptuary and of the moralist. 
Kvery hard-heartfd fair one, from the beginning 
of time, has been rtininded that 

" LiL Beau lie n'cst iingfruict dc garde,'* 

This Canzon seems to have been suggested by 
part of the 63d Chant. o( Au^ias March, the Pro- 
vencal Poet. 

" No sabea prou si leixau temps fugir 

*' — Et temps per dtU no polt ester cobrat,'* &c. 

Did ever yet a moment stay 
To please the dallying lover? 

And who that lost the lucky day 

Could e'er that loss recover? ^c. kc. 



131 
" 7% locks of gold;' &c. So Berabo, 

" Quando le chiome d'or caro e lucente 
" Sararmo argente;' &c. 

The Translator has, ia this place, taken a line 
from Drummond. 

*' Those vain regrets;* kc. Gil Polo, a Spanish 
Poet, prettily treats this thought in his Diana. 
Jib. ii. 

'' Porque toma tal vingan^a, 

" De vosotras el amor, 

" tlue entonces os da dolor 

" ^uando osfalta la esperan^a f'* 

Thy pride of charms shall all decay. 
And thou shalt then its forfeit pay. 
And vainly weep thy former scorn. 
Thy thousand lovers* slighted prayers,— 
And grief shall in thy heart be born. 
When love is dead in theirs! 



132 



STANZAS TO NIGHT. P. 66. 

These Stanzas are the conclusion of an Ode to 
the Moon, and are the only part of it which is 
worth the trouble of translation. 

» 

*^ Young buds I strexv/^ &c. The classical of- 
fering of flowers to Night seems to have been sug- 
gested by B. Tasso. Rirne, Lib. ii. Can. 3. 

*' Nottef che dehho darte 
" Che cosi intenta, e cheta 
** Ascolti le ?7iie voci alta e noiose ? 
^' Poiche d^altro honorarte 
'^ Non possOf prendi lieta 
^' i^ueste negre viole e queste rose 
'* DalV umor rugiadose/* &c. 

Night ! since thy pensive ear did not disdain 
The weeping lover's sadly dittied strain. 
Large gifts of gratitude to thee he owes. 
Who kindly listened to his tale of woes.^ — 



133 

Be generous still— his little all receive. 
All that a Poet^s humble hands can give; 
Young violets that boast celestial blue. 
And budding roses, newly dipt in dew ! 

^^ By jealous TithoUy^ &c. The tears of Aurora 
are frequently mentioned by poets, but it was re- 
served for Phineas Fletcher to give a natural ex- 
plication of them — 

'^ Aurora from old Ti thongs frostie bed, 
'^ (Cold wintrie withered Tithon) earlie creepes, 
" Her cheek with grief was pale, with anger red, 
"^ Out of her window close she blushing peepes, 
^' Her weeping eyes in pearled dew she steepes, 
^' Casting what sportlesse nights she ever led.'* 

ECLOGUE VII. 

(TkePriz^J 



134 



CANZON. P 68. 



IMITATED FROM THE XXXVI. SON. OF THE SECOND 
CENTURY. 



The tree to which these lines are addressed, 
seems from the description to have been the Dii- 
rio. It is a species of apple-tree^ which grows to 
an immense size, and to the fruit of which that 
quality is attributed^ which the ancients formerly 
assigned to the Lotos, (Sousa.) 

'* As the 7nellowing hlusheSy^ &c. The luxuri- 
ance of female charms furnishes our Poet with 
some of his happiest allusions. In particular, that 
most celebrated simile in the 9th Lusiad: 

'' Os fermosos limoes, alii cheirando 
*' Estad virgineas tetas imitando" 

Here balmy citrons scent the whispering grove^ 
Round as the virgin's rising breasts of love. 



135 



CANZONET. P. 70. 
So Petrarch^ Sonn. 194. 

*' Cantai — orpiango, e non men di dolcezza 
'^ Del pianger prendo, che del canto presi/' &c. 

Gay were my songs — now tears will only flow. 
And all my bliss is centerM but in woe ! 

" Like the captive*s strains 



" Chaunted to the sound of chains /" 

Imitated from Tibullus, Eleg. vii. b. 2. 

*' Spes etiam validd solatur compede vinctumj 
'^ Crura sonant f err o, sed canit inter opus:'' 

For Hope can soothe the wearied prisoner's pains. 
And turn to melody the clank of chains; 
ConsoFd by her, while harsh the fetter rings 
He thinks of happier days, and^aily sings« 



13G 



CANZON. P. 71. 



The chaste discretion of delicate Love is admi- 
rably pourtrayed in this little Poem. Happy for 
our Author had he always obeyed its dictates ! 



CANZONET. P. 73. 



" The Lady who swore hy her eyes.^^ Such asse- 
verations vrere not unusual in the days of chival- 
ry. They are frequently mentioned in the Tales 
of the Troubadours. In the hai of Courtoys there 
is a particular instance. '' Estant cousches ai lict, 
^' la belle dame li faict ser?n€n, e diet, par mafleor, 
*' diet elle, e par cils yeulx qi tant estimes'^ &c. 
The modest reader must not expect the remainder 
of this strange adjuration, which is a continued 
medley of pious phrases and sentiments by no 
means analogous. 



137 



ELEGY. P. 75. 

The Elegy from which these lines are taken, 
was probably written by Camoens at Santarem, 
whither he had been banished. The circum- 
stances of his exile, and the cause of it, produced 
a natural comparison between his fate and that 
of Ovid. 

'^ Her who so long/' &c. 
'' His babes/' &c. 

In the third Epistle from Pontus, Ovid thus 
unfashionably laments the absence of his wife. 

^' XJtque sit exiguum pcencB, quod conjuge char a 
^' 2uod careo patria, pignoribusque meisJ* 

'Tis mine to mourn the cherishM joys of life; 
Mourn for my distant country— children — wife. 



138 



CANZON. P. 79. 

Among the numerous imitations of Anacreon's 
Wandering Cupid, there is none in which the 
playful character of boyhood has been so well 
preserved as it is in this little Poem. The de- 
struction of the flowers is an act of mere childish 
mischief, which admirably accords with ^^ the 
young adopted^s age/' 

" His baby form/'— ' 

'^ Like one of those within 7mne eyes" Camoens 
is passionately fond of this allusion. It has been 
fancifully pursued by one of the most original of 
our modern Poets ^ 

1 Little's Poems, p. 26. 



139 



SONNETS. P. 85. 



Amongst other reasons why the legitimate Ita- 
lian Sonnet be not suitable to the genius of the 
English language^ the following is not the least 
forcible. In those languages which are more 
immediately formed on the Latin, there is a fre- 
quent similarity of termination, which greatly 
facilitates the use of rhyme. Accordingly, the 
Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese languages (which 
originate from that source) have adopted the li- 
cence of polysyllabic rhyme, and with it the 
Sonnet. The former was a liberty which they 
could scarcely have avoided, but which has never 
been sanctioned by the ^^ Musce severiores'' of 
England. To us, therefore, the mechanical ar- 
rangement of a Sonnet becomes a matter of pe* 
culiar difficulty. 

Some of the Spanish poets have laid down a 
collection of rules for the construction of Sonnets, 
so pompous and so particular, that it seems as if 



140 

they considered that species of composition as the 
sublimest effort of human ingenuity. In all the 
oracular obscurity of Portuguese metaphor we 
are told, that a Sonnet should '' be opened with 
a key of silver, and closed with one of goldP^ 
Que ha o Soneto de abrivse com chave de prata, e 
fecharse com chave de ouro^. 



SONNET h P. 87. 

Love delights to recal the circumstances of its 
earlier existence; and to Camoens those earlier 
remembrances were certainly the pleas^test. 

^^ When in the midst y" &c. This event, from 
the internal evidence of other Poems, appears to 
have taken place on Holy Thursday, 1542, in 
that church at Lisbon which is dedicated to the 
^' Wounds of Christ,'^ If we compute according 

1 Trat, da Vers. Portu^. Em Lisboa 1781. 12ibo. 



141 

to the calendar then in use, we shall be able to 
ascertain the exact day on which our Poet's pas- 
sion commenced. He tells us in the 7th Canzon, 
that it began '^ when the sun was entering Tau- 
rus/* Before the Gregorian alteration, that in- 
gress was settled to be on the 10th of April. Holy 
Thursday, in the year 1542, happened on the 
1 1th of April. There is a class of readers to whom 
the omission of this point would have appeared 
unpardonable, and for their instruction the Trans- 
lator has investigated it. 

'^ — each wasted hour — '* 
'' When Iivasfree/^ &c. 

Faria says that Camoens was indebted for this 
idea to Silvestre, a Spanish Poet. 

*' Tan preciosa es mi prision, 

*' Soy tan Men aprisionado, 
" Swe pido reconvencion, 

** Del tiempo que no lo he estado!^^ 

VISIT OF LOVE. 



142 



So delightful my prison had grown. 
So charming the fetters I bore. 

That my bosom regretted alone 
— It had not been captured before ! 



SONNET II. P. 88. 



The Sonnets formed on this idea, both previous 
and subsequent to that of Camoexs, are almost 
innumerable. It is probable that our Poet found- 
ed his on some lines in Garcilasso. 

'' Entonces co??io quando el Cisne siente 
*' El ansia postrimera que le aquexa 
*' Ytiaita el cuerpo misero y doliente 
** Con triste e lajiientable son se quexa 



143 

^ Yse despide confunesto canto 
^' Del espirtu vital que del se alexa; 
^' Assi aqiiexado 7/0 de dolor tanto 

*' 2i/e el alma ahandonava ya la humana 
^' Came, soUe la rienda al triste Ilanto." 

ECLOG. II, 



IMITATED. 

As pours the swan his melancholy strains. 
While death-pangsshudderthro^ his freezing veins. 
Just as existence wings her parting flight. 
And heart grows chill, and eyes are steep'd in 

night. 
He mourns for life, in lapses sad but strong. 
And his last accents faulter into song. 

So when I leave this dreary vale of woe, 

And love and grief have brought my spirit low. 

For thee, most fair — most lovM — thee, most severe. 

For thee, thy bard shall weep his latest tear. 

And faintly utter w^ith his failing breath, 

" 'Tis parting makes the bitterness of death!' 



144 

" And unrequited love and cruel ivrong,^^ The 
original concludes with a Jine of pure Spanish, 
taken from Boscan. 

" La vuestra falsa fe, 1/ el amor mio,^' 

Such combinations of language are not unusual 
among the Poets of Italy, Portugal, and Spain. 
The following curious medley is found in a Can- 
zon of the immortal Dante. 

** Chanson! vos pognez ir par tot le mond, 
^^ Namque locutus sum in lingua trind, 
'^ Ut gravis mea spina, 
** Sifaccia per lo mondo ogn* uomo il senta 
*^ Forse pietd n'havra chi ine tormenta" &Ce 

Our own Chaucer has likewise indulged in this 
practice, 

^^ pulchrior Sole in beautie, & full ylucidente !'* 
IX, ladies' worthier 



145 



SONNET III. P. 89. 

This fine Sonnet is addressied to Estacio de Fa- 
ria, grandfather to the Commentator on Camoens, 
who says of him^ that, ^^ if not great in all things j 
he xvas little in none,^^ 

^' And like a watch-tower.'^ The original con« 
taias a pun on the words Faro and Faria, 



SONNET IV. P. 90, 

The touching melancholy of many of those 
compositions in which Camoens complains of his 
sorrows, becomes truly interesting when we con- 
sider, that he laments what he actually suffered, 
that he was not fastidiously unhappy, but under« 
went real misery in its fullest extent. 

^^ To combat perils strange J*' The original is not 
very graceful — '' Me fez manjar de peixes;" lite- 
rally, ^'had made m^ food for fishes.'* 

L 



146 

" Midst that wild main/^ &c. Alluding not to 
the shipwreck which he suffered in the Gulph 
of Cochin-China, but to the dangers encountered 
when he accompanied Manuel de Vasconcelos in 
an expedition against the Moorish Vessels in the 
Red Sea, about the month of February, 1555. 

The Commentator Sousa, will not allow that 
this Sonnet relates to the life of Camoens. He 
supposes it to have been written by our Poet, but 
to be descriptive of the misfortunes of one of his 
friends, and liberally bestows the epithets, " beast 
and fool," on those who presume to think other- 
wise. 



SONNET V. P. 91. 

Written on the morning of our Poet^s depar- 
ture from Lisbon to Santarem. 

'^ -^Purpling arimt,'^ &c. Literally *' marcH- 
tada" inlaid. 



147 

^' As e^en might tum/^ &c. This fanciful rho* 
domontade seems to have been suggested by 
Dante; 

'* E comminciS raggiandofm d*un riso 
" Tal, eke ml fuoco, faria VuonifeliceV* 

PARADISO, CANTO VII. V. 17« 



SONNET VI. p. 92. 

*^ My senses lost" &c. Perhaps this complaint 
Tvas more than poetically true. The assertion in 
question might have been occasioned by the noble 
independence of our poet's disposition, and by his 
undisguised contempt of titled ignorance and dig- 
nified barbarity. Such conduct will in all ages 
obtain the appellation of madness. 



148 



SONNET VII. P. 93. 

Bertaut^ an old French poet, hath expressed the 
same sentiment in a beautiful manner. 

Feliciti passie 
2ui ne peux revenir, 
Tour?nent de ma pensie! 
St^e rCay-jc en te perdant, perdu le souvenir? 

HelaSy il ne me reste 
De mes contentemens, 
^u^ un souvenir funeste 
^ui me les convertit, a toute heure, en iounnens / 



SONNET VIII. P. 94. 

The earliest and happiest years of our Poet^js 
life were passed at Coimbra. The walls of that 
town were bathed by the river Mondego^ to 
which this beautiful Sonnet is addressed, 



149 



SONNET IX. P. 95. 

It is amusing to observe our Poet^s recantation 
of all his former blasphemies against the omnipo- 
tence of Love. Perhaps^ if every man who has 
felt its influence^ were to be equally candid, he 
would confess that his sweetest hours were those 
which were passed under its dominion. '^ Croyez 
moi, on n^est heureux que par V amour, ^^ So said 
the dangerous Valmont, and once^ at leasts the 
dangerous Valmont was right ! 



SONNET X. P. 96. 

^' Come tell me, fairest,^'* Thustoo> Ferrej/ra, one 
of the most pleasing amongst the Portuguese 
writers : 



ISO 

^' — Donde tomou amor, e de qual vea, 
*' ouro taofino e pur o para aquellas 
'^ Trangas louras ? — 

'* Donde as perlas/^ &c. 

SONNET XIX. 

O tell me from what purer mine 
Did Love select that reddenM gold. 

Which fondly o^er thy brows divine 
Thus hangs in many an amorous fold ! 

Both Camoens and Ferrejnra seem to have takea 
the idea from Petrarch, Sonn. 1S5. 

^^ Onde tolse amor Voro, t di qual vena 
^' Per far due treccie bionde/^ &c. 



SONNET XI. P. 91. 
Thus Petrarch: 

" Benedetto sia Hgiomo, c7 m^se, e Vanm" &c. 



151 



^' VcWdtvay prospect" &c. 

There is a concetto in the original on U>e word 
Espercm^a, which signifies both Expectation and 
Hope. 



SONNET XII. P. 98* 

Written on the death of Don Antonio de No- 
ronha, who was slain in an encounter with the 
Moors on the 18th of April, 1553; We must be 
careful not to confound this amiable young hero 
with the two inglorious viceroys of his name, nor 
with Don Antonio de Noronha, who was Governor 
of India in 1568, men remarkable for nothing but 
the rapacity and extortion which they displayed 
in the execution of their office. He whose pre- 
mature death our Poet thus feelingly laments, was 
his earliest friend, and connected to him by a re- 
markable similarity of fortune. His father, the 
second Count of Linares, had sent him to join the 
Moorish expedition, in order to remove him from 
the object of an attachment which he had formed 



152 

at Lisbon. It was in this expedition that he was 
slain. The circumstances of his death, as detailed 
by Sousa, exhibit all the chivalrous gallantry of 
those romantic days, when men were more than 
heroes, and women but just less than divine. 

^^ Live in the memory ^^^ &c. So B. Tasso, 

^^ — Vivrb nelle memorie dei mortali.^^ 

SONNET I. 



SONNET XIII. P. 99. 

The inefficacy of rural beauty to please, during 
the absence of a mistress, is among the common- 
places of amatory poets. The language of the 
heart is so universal, that the similarity of this 
Sonnet to a passage in Langhorne will not sur- 
prise: 



15S 

" — What are streams or flowers, 
^' Or songs of blithe birds? What the blushing rose, 
'^ Young health, or music, or the voice of praise, 
" The smile of vernal suns, the fragrant breath 
'^ Of evening gales — when Delia dwells afar^^^ 



SONNET XIV. P. 100. 

Written on his departure for Africa, 

^^ then thy magic name's mi/stenoics sound,^' It 
is probable, says the Commentator, that on such 
an emergency, he would have invoked the more 
powerful assistance of St. James of Compostella, 
or the Archangel St. Michael. 



154 



SONNET XV. P. 101. 



'' I sang of Love," &c. Perhaps this thought 
was suggested by Dante. 

'^ Farei parlando znnamorar la gente, 
<( — e raggionar 'd^amor si dolcemente, 
" Che face consentir lo cuore in lui — " 

KIME,/o/. IV. ^ X. 

So gaily shall the amorous minstrel sing. 
His glowing verse shall soft persuasion bring. 
And while the strains in tides of sweetness roll. 
Teach warm consent to each enraptured soul. 

But Dante, unfortunately, did not fulfil his pro- 
mise, for his minor poems on amatory subjects are 
often deficient in the ease and delicacy necessary 
to such compositions. 



155 

*' And blushing gtrls,'^ &c. The aptitude of 
these young scholars brings to mind a celebrated 
passage in the Confessions of St* Austin. '' Si 
*^ non amaveriSy frigidm loquor: Da amantem, da 
*^ seruientem, da desiderantem — sci^ quod loquor /" 
Confess, Cap. iii. § 4. 

*' Th&sc little secrets/^ &c. So Ausias March, 
the Proven9al: 

'^ He asats parlat d^amor, e de sosfets 
*' E descuberts mdt^ amros secrets /*' 

CANTO 73. 

Enough haye amorous deeds employM my song. 
Enough those secrets that to Love belong. 



SONNET XVI. P. 102. 



" The Tuscan fair/' kc. Ferreyra has the 
same thought : 



156 

Had you but gracM that elder day 
When Petrarch pour'd his pensive lay ^ 
By Sorga's stream, if haply you 
Had met the Poet's amorous view, 
O then the bard of Sorga's stream 
Had surely sung a sv^eeter theme. 
And to a nobler passion true, 
Tun'd his wild harp to Love and youl 

" Then how, alas, shall humble Liso dareJ^ 

Liso is the anagram oi Lois, In the same man- 
ner, our Poet discreetly calls his mistress Natercia 
instead of Caterina, Sometimes w^ith more learned 
gallantry he gives her the name of Avyocfji,svr}. 



157 



SONNET XVII. P. 103. 



Imitated from Petrarch^, Sonnet 196. 

*^ I mi vivea di mia sorte contento, 
" Senza lagrime, e senza invidia alcuna^ 
^' Che s'altro aynantt hd piu destrafortuna, 
*' Mille placer non vaglion un tormento !'* 

I livM contented in my lowly state. 

Nor grief my heart disturbM, nor jealous fear^ 
I envied not the Lover^s happier fate — 
- Can thousand joys repay a single tear? 

" Such Miss I deem%" &c. Thus Guillem 
Aesmer, the Troubadour. 

*^ Mais vaut d^amor qi ben est enveios, 

'^ — Un dohplorar non vaut qatorz ris!^^ &c. 



153 



IMITATED. 



Some love to weep their prime away; 

No charm to me in grief appears. 
And forty smiles could never pay 

A minute passed in tears! 



SONNET XVIII. P. 104. 

*' Dear hand/* &c. Our Poet had implored 
Donna Caterina to grant him a lock of her hair. 
She promised to bestow it at some future period, 
and in the mean-time presented him with the fiU 
let which she wore round her head, as a pledge 
of her intentions in his favour. Feria, 

This Sonnet was perhaps suggested by that ce« 
lebrated Poem of Gardlaxo, beginning, '^ duU 
£€S prendas/' &c. 



159 



" Gifts small as these.'^ Literally, '' By the 
laws of Love^ part is taken in pledge for alU^^ 



SONNET XIX. P. 105. 

*' Lopez!" This w^ Don John Lopez de 
LeyiXLOy to whom our Poet afterwards addressed 
some very comical verses, occasioned by the sight 
of a piece of Indian cloth, which Leytad was about 
to present to a lady of whom he was enamoured. 



l^NNET XX. P. 106. 

Written on the death of Donna Caterina de 
Ataide. 

" Love saw the deed/* The concetti with which 
this Sonnet terminates were so obstinate as to 
compel the Translator in some degree to deviate 
from bis original* 



160 



THE NIGHT SCENE. P. 109. 

The Translator has to regret that the interrup- 
tion of illness prevented him from concluding this 
Canto^ which gives a description of the Tourna- 
ment held in London, during the days of John of 
Gaunt, when twelve Portuguese Chevaliers van- 
quished the same number of Enghsh. See Mr. 
Mickle^s Translation. 

The few Stanzas which have been thus trans- 
lated, afford a fair specimen of that ^^ eking-out 
tautology'^ which the constraint of octave mea- 
sure compelled Camoens to employ, and which 
is, perhaps, the greatest blemish in his Epic 
Poem; 

FINIS. 



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